


Recurrence

by traitorhero



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traitorhero/pseuds/traitorhero
Summary: The black contraption sat in her hands, still buzzing with its Void-spun power hours after she had returned to the Dreadful Wale. Hours after returning from the Dust District and seeing the differences wrought by one decision she had made in the past.Saving Aramis had stopped the war between the Howlers and the Overseers; had returned an arm to Meagan. There had been definite changes based on one choice she had made.What was stopping her from making more?





	1. chapter one - six months after the assassination of the empress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my entry for the Dishonored Big Bang 2017. Thanks to carvedwhalebones for holding the event!
> 
> The amazing art for this story was done by tashacho, and can be found [here](http://tashacho.tumblr.com/post/163338744731/recurrence-dishonored-big-bang-2017-heres-my).

It was surprisingly easy to sneak into a whorehouse. Corvo smirked behind his mask as he crawled through the window, unseen by the guard below him. It would have been easier to take the balcony guard out, but the extra complications of stashing the body would have set him back another five minutes. And with the knowledge that Emily was somewhere within the Golden Cat, he couldn’t justify the expense. 

As he slipped in, Corvo called on the power that he had been gifted. The world changed, the colors fading into hues of amber and gold. A guardsman and an older woman, most likely the Madam, were in the middle of a heated discussion as he crept above their heads.

“I don’t care how much they pay, I can’t keep her here much longer.”

“Madam, I assure you -”

“Their lordships told me their bastard would be here for a few weeks. It’s been six months, Caldwell, and the pittance they’re paying me doesn’t make me what the space she takes in the dormitories.”

“Look, I understand that this is annoying to you, but what do you think I can do about it?”

“You’re the head of their guard. Tell them, I don’t know... Tell them I’ll refuse them service if they leave her here for another week.”

The guardsman laughed. “As if you could afford not having guests of their purses in these times. How many people can get to you past those Walls of Light?”

“Enough,” the Madam said. “It would have been easier to just sell me the girl in the first place. She could have been trained to at least serve refreshments to the guests while they’re waiting for their girls. Instead she gets to laze about upstairs.”

“She’s nobility.”

“She’s a bastard daughter of one of the two most philandering men I’ve ever met. I’m surprised they even needed more women after all their visits here.”

“Hell if I know. They’re cagey bastards, even for nobles.”

“Just let them know I’m not going to keep her here for them forever. Send them to my office if they won’t take you seriously.”

“Of course, Madam.”

The Madam nodded sharply, exiting through a side door. Corvo shifted his sight again, watching as she climbed the stairs. By a quirk of the architecture, there were openings that he could squeeze through as she walked towards an office. As she opened the door to her office, Corvo slipped up behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck. Before she could scream he placed his other hand over her mouth and walked her into the office, kicking the door shut behind them. 

“Where is the girl?” he asked, the words coming out in a sibilant hiss. 

The Madam muttered something against his palm, and Corvo pulled his hand away in just enough time to avoid her biting it. Her head banged against the front of his mask, and he heard her begin to draw in a deep breath. Before she could use it to scream for help, he tightened his arm pressing it tight against her neck. Within half a minute she was limp in his grasp. 

A bubble of annoyance rose in his chest as he laid her on the ground. Looking around her office, he spotted a few papers that looked like they could be of use to the Admiral, stating the different visitors and their spendings at the brothel. As he lifted one pile, Corvo found an antiqued brass key, different in make and style from the one that the Madam had used to enter the office. Below it was a paper, making a note of the price for the key and lock, and of the intention to bill it to the Pendleton twins. 

Corvo took it, the metal cold in his ungloved hand. The number eight was carved onto it, and he gripped it tighter as he snuck out of the Madam’s office, hearing the lock click shut behind him. Creeping up the stairs, wary of any creaks the old wood could make, he went to the third floor. Unlike the opulence of the room he had seen below, the only effort to make this area livable appeared to be the chipped white paint slopped across the walls. 

Checking the number against the doors as he passed them, Corvo finally matched it to its partner. Unlike the half broken or broken locks that made up the rest of the hallway, the door to the eighth room had a brand new brass lock. The knob turned easily as he slotted the key in, and he let out a sigh of relief that he had barely noticed that he was holding. 

The room inside was dark, with rich red and purple fabrics loosely covering where the window would be. An oil lamp sat on a small cabinet, flickering brightly and casting odd shadows about the room. A feeling of wrongness struck him for an instant as he looked at the contained flame, as if someone had taken the rug out from under him. As soon as it came upon him, it dissipated. Corvo let the uneasiness sit on his shoulders for a moment as he finally looked to the two figures sitting behind an overturned table. Only one of them had his attention, and he took a step forward towards her.

Emily looked up at him, her eyes going wide and a smile blossoming across her face, almost as if she recognized him behind the mask he wore. The woman sitting next to her looked up as well. The skin around her eyes tightened as their eyes met, and she glanced away. As she did so she raised her hand, and Emily’s form, which had stayed by her side, dispersed into a dark mist. 

Corvo couldn’t stop the pained sound that escaped his throat as he Blinked towards the masked woman. Her blade intercepted his own, parrying it down and into the floor. Her off hand reached up and grabbed his coat, her fingers twisting into the heavy fabric.

“I am not your enemy,” she said, her voice muffled through the half-mask she wore. “Corvo-”

She reacted in an instant as his blade drew up again, this time ducking under the sweeping blow. Corvo snarled, the mask distorting the sound into something feral as he dragged his hand up and time seemed to slow around him. The woman’s eyes widened, almost as if she knew what he was doing, and she released his coat. Her off hand disappeared beneath a mass of writhing threads, and her body was yanked from in front of him. His sword still swung down, but instead of slashing across her chest, it cut across the meat of her thigh in a glancing blow.

Time sped up again, and Corvo turned to face the masked woman. She was leaning heavily on her right side, her sword hand pressed to the bleeding wound he had given her. As he stalked towards her the skin around her eyes paled, and she twisted the stab he made towards her into the cabinet she leant against. The blade sunk a few inches into the wood, and before he could yank it out again, her left hand came up and shoved him. The strength behind her arm was more than he anticipated, and Corvo stumbled backwards, impacting the table she and Emily had been behind.

“I don’t want to fight you,” the woman said. Her own sword vanished into the folds of her coat as she grabbed his and pulled it from the wood. “We’re on the same side, Lord Protector.’

“What did you do with Emily?” Corvo asked, warily accepting the truce she offered.

“She’s in Karnaca, with people I trust.”

“Serkonos?”

“It was the safest place to put her,” the woman told him. “Leaving her in the city wasn’t an option. Leaving her here even less of one.”

“And these people-”

“Are loyal to the Empress,” she said. “They would not let any harm come to her, I can promise you that. That I live is due to them, and they will protect her as they would me.”

“Anyone loyal to Jessamine died with Burrows’ ascension to Lord Regent,” Corvo replied, putting aside the strange way she worded her answer. “So, again, who do you owe your loyalty to?”

“The Empress,” she answered, her left hand coming to rest across her breast in a short form of a bow. “To harm her would be to end my own life, Lord Protector.”

Corvo narrowed his eyes behind his mask as a ring on her hand caught the low light of the room. Activating the telescoping lens that Piero had installed, he focused on the ring, catching an inlay of four keys before the woman dropped it to her side again.

“Which Empress?”

The corners of the mask moved, giving the impression that the woman was smiling underneath it. “Emily Kaldwin.”

“You swore your loyalty to her?” Corvo asked, unable to keep a little surprise from his voice. 

The woman chuckled. “I would no more be able to tear my loyalty from her than the heart from my own chest.”

“Are you working on your own?”

“Yes,” she said, but her forehead wrinkled as a thought came to her. “No. There is another whom I have acquired to aid in this endeavor.”

“The same one who gifted you those powers?”

The light in her eyes shuttered. She tucked her hand behind her back, almost as if she was frightened, or ashamed, of the Mark that certainly lay beneath the cloth bindings.With a quick motion, she sheathed the blade of his sword and handed the hilt to him.

“That’s a story that you don’t need to know,” she replied. “Suffice to say that the risk with it was better than without.”

Corvo nodded, accepting the sidestep. “Are you a friend of the Loyalists, then.”

“No more than I would be of a gutter rat,” she said, venom entering her tone. She shook her head slightly, almost as if regaining her composure. “My accomplice is known around Dunwall, but he doesn’t run in their circles.” The woman stopped, the frown between her brows deepening. “At least, not anymore.”

“Perhaps our two groups could work together-”

“I won’t work with men like them,” she told him. “I trust you, Lord Protector. You are a good man in the service of liars and killers who I would not trust to step on each other’s necks to reach for power. And the group I have allied with is not one that they would trust either.”

“Then why should I trust them?”

“You shouldn’t,” she said with a shrug. “There are few good people in jobs such as these. The man I have seeks to be one of them, but his atonement is one he may never see. He agreed to assist me in the hopes of maybe coming closer to that goal.”

Corvo nodded absently, leaning against the table behind him as he went over what she had told him. For all that she had said, it boiled down to very little. She was loyal to Emily, and sought to restore her to the throne. But she didn’t trust the men who had rescued him from Coldridge, which was odd. Her manner of speech was refined, but there were thick calluses on her palms and fingers, as if she was accustomed to wielding a weapon or doing manual labor. Perhaps her family had been lower nobility, or she was a bastard daughter of a noble who had enough propriety to ensure her education.

As he pondered this, he watched as she uncorked a vial of Sokolov’s Elixir and dribbled the contents on the wound he had given her. She hissed under her breath, a sailor’s curse that he remembered from his childhood near the docks. Her skin had an olive-tint to it, unusual to find in the city, although if what she said was true about taking Emily to Serkonos, would explain it away.

“My entire goal in coming here was to rescue Emily,” he told her. “Since you’ve taken care of that, I have other issues to deal with.”

“The Pendletons?” 

Corvo raised an eyebrow behind his mask. “You know where they are?”

“I know where they will be,” she said. “And I know where they’ll be after the favor I called in. They won’t be a problem for your Loyalists.”

“They’ll be dead?”

The look in her eyes was cold as she met the lenses of his mask. “The Pendleton silver mines are always looking for more workers. They don’t ask questions when they’re given men.”

He let the silence stand between them. A part of him railed against the idea of letting the Pendleton twins be taken as slaves, to be used and discarded in their own mines. A larger part of him felt a sense of justice in the action. Letting out a sigh that sounded like a death rattle through the mask, he tilted his head in thanks to the masked woman.

“You’ve saved me a burden, it seems.”

“You could have carried it,” she said. “I am gladdened that you do not have to.”

“Where do we go from here?” Corvo asked. “The Loyalists expect me to return with Emily.”

“You intend to return to them?”

“They are good people, despite what you think of them.”

The woman gave an unladylike snort, before rolling her eyes in annoyance. “If you are determined to do so, I’ll go with you.”

“If you are, I would like a name.”

“Lela,” she said immediately. “You can call me Lela.”

Corvo grunted, accepting what was most certainly an alias. “I’m assuming you know how to get to the end of Clavering Boulevard?”

“There’s a shortcut from here to there,” Lela told him. “It’ll get you around the second wall of light, but the first is a problem unless you know the back roads.”

There must have been something in his posture that displayed his surprise. Lela rolled her eyes, and gestured for him to follow her. She waved her hand in front of her as they left the room, before sinking into a crouch. The next door down opened, and a head poked out, facing away from them towards the stairs. Before the girl could look their way, Lela had dashed forward, pulling the girl out and wrapping her arm around her neck. It was less than a minute before the girl stopped moving, slumping bonelessly in Lela’s arms.

With what looked like a practiced motion, Lela hoisted the girl over her shoulder and walked through the now open door. Corvo poked his head inside, watching with interest as Lela laid the girl down on a bed and pulled a thin blanket over her barely clothed form. As she turned back to the door, she stopped and reached into her pocket, pulling out a few coins and placing them on the small bedside table.

“We should go before anyone else wonders who was fighting up here,” Lela said, brushing past him. 

Unlike his stealthy maneuvers to get to the top floor, Lela showed little fear of being discovered as she walked down the stairwell. The only time she stopped was by the Madam’s door, her hand trailing in front of her again. Corvo walked up beside her just in time to see a troubled look cross her face.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m surprised, that’s all,” she said.

As she turned to continue down the stairs, Corvo grabbed her arm. Lela stopped short, her eyes meeting the lenses of his mask. She didn’t flinch, or show any sign that the ghoulish figure that it cut scared her in any way. 

“You want her dead?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

The bitter anger in her voice told otherwise. “Are you sure?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter what I want,” Lela told him. “Come on, the exit’s down this way.”

A surge of protectiveness rose in Corvo’s chest as Lela walked down the stairs. He spared a look to the Madam’s closed door, his hand straying to the sword on his belt. As soon as the thought came to his head he shook it off. There was no reason for him to feel protective towards this young woman who had stolen his daughter from him again. Still, a ripple of discontent radiated down his spine as he followed Lela down the stairs. There had been girls like the ones that worked here back in Karnaca; women with no other way to support themselves, or who had been sold by their parents for profit to the houses that they served in. 

As they passed through a hidden exit, Corvo wondered which side this “Lela” fell on. The way she spoke told of an education beyond what most children would receive. If it were true, she could have been the ill-begotten bastard child of any number of Lords. It was odd that she had been educated, but there were a number of older members of Parliament that had no heirs. Or perhaps one of her parents had simply been a wealthy merchant, able to provide for such an education so that his daughter could seek to better herself with a noble husband. 

“Shit,” Lela muttered, pulling him out of his musings. She pulled up short, and only a quick maneuvering allowed him to avoid colliding with her. 

The hallway that they had exited into curved sharply, and a glow of light shone around it. Lela scooted to the edge of the hallway and peeked around. Before she could stop him, Corvo followed, and found himself surprised by what he saw. Granny Rags puttered around what looked like was once a squatter’s home. The wizened woman didn’t seem to notice them, but as he pulled back he noticed the tightness in Lela’s shoulders. Almost as suddenly as he noticed it, Lela’s shoulders relaxed, although the tight look around her eyes was back.

She turned the corner, and, lacking any other options, Corvo followed her. Lela’s back was ramrod straight, and she walked past where Granny Rags was rummaging in overturned crates as if it didn’t bother her. The old woman’s hand shot out and grabbed Lela’s before she could move more than a step away.

“Twisting, twisting child,” Granny Rags said. “Running away... No. Running towards a changing future. The birdies aren’t going to like it if you keep messing around and making a mess.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Lela said, tugging her hand out of Granny Rags’ grasp.

Granny Rags chuckled as Lela walked away. As Corvo moved to follow her, Granny Rags’ hand whipped out in front of him and he stopped rather than walk into it. Her milky white eyes turned to face him, and despite knowing there was no way that she could see his face, Corvo had the distinct impression that she was looking into his eyes. 

“Watch that girl of yours,” she warned. “Twisting on the wind and not looking out for what’s below. The birdies will peck at her smashed corpse if she’s not careful.”

Her hand opened, and a glittering object fell from it. Corvo grabbed it before it could hit the ground. As his fingers closed around it, he could feel the thrum of power and recognized the object. The ridges of the bone charm dug into his palm. As he looked back to Granny Rags, she placed a finger against her lips, before turning and going back to her rummaging. 

Shoving the whispering charm into his pocket, he jogged to catch up with Lela. She had stopped at the edge of what looked like the opening to an alleyway, if the slanting evening light was anything to go by. Her hand was tight on the hilt of her sword, her eyes scanning whatever it was that she saw. As he reached her, the low moans and retching of the Weepers caught his ears. Corvo bit back a curse as he peered over her shoulder, seeing the group of four wandering aimlessly around, unaware of the two of them.

“Now what?” Corvo asked, already reaching for his crossbow. He hadn’t thought to restock his sleep darts before taking on this mission, too distracted from the idea of rescuing Emily. The idea of killing wasn’t abhorrent to him, but Jessamine’s last words had been of her people, and how all of them had deserved to be saved. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lela put what looked like a Spiritual Remedy to her mask. The blue-tinged liquid disappeared quickly, and she shuddered before tucking the empty vial back onto her belt. 

“Move quickly,” she told him.

As she said this, Lela stretched her hand out, her eyes narrowing as she drew it back quickly. The sound of whispers echoed around the alley, and as Corvo looked his brain refused to understand what it was seeing. Unlike him, the Weepers seemed drawn to the shifting, unnatural thing, their hands reaching out as they tried to touch it. There was an undeniable pull to the thing, and he couldn’t stop the half-step he took towards it. There was a half-familiar voice, someone who had left him alone in the world, calling for him to join them.

A sharp tug on his hand snapped him back to reality. Lela pulled him down the alley, pointing with her other hand to a sloped rooftop. She released his his hand, lifting herself to the roof with the same strange power that she had shown before. Before the whispers could overtake him again, Corvo blinked up to the ledge. Almost as if some invisible string had been cut, the whispers and their promises vanished into the air.

“I’m so sorry,” Lela said. “I had no idea that it could grab you as well.”

“It’s fine,” Corvo told her, the words coming out harsher than he intended through the mask. “You said you had a way out of here?”

Lela nodded. “Slackjaw and I have an... arrangement, I suppose. I need to talk to one of his people, but we should be able to get to the riverside without any issue afterwards.”

Corvo narrowed his eyes under the mask. “Why would we need to go to the riverside?”

“It makes the most sense,” Lela said. Her words were stilted slightly, as if she was trying to figure out what to say. Her shoulders straightened, and she turned to walk to the other side of the roof. “Only an idiot would set up on Slackjaw’s turf without asking, and you’ve only been out of Coldridge since the 17th. There are other people helping you, people who are smart enough not to go where they aren’t wanted. So, the river.”

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Hardly,” she replied. “But if I was sending you off to do my dirty work, I’d want to be as far away as possible from the carnage. All the better to wipe my hands of it if anyone asked.”

Before he could ask further, Lela dropped from the roof and landed on the street below. Rather than follow her, Corvo stuck to the roofs. Unlike his stealthy approach, Lela didn’t seem concerned with the gang members seeing her. They straightened at her approach, but didn’t go for the cleavers attached to their belts. Sighting a closer perch, Corvo moved to it to hear their discussion. 

“Tell Slackjaw I’m calling in that favor,” Lela told one of the gang members. 

“Tell him yourself,” the gang member said. “He’s inside.”

“I have places to be,” she said, a hint of haughty imperiousness coloring her tone. “If he needs to hear it from my own lips, bring him out here. I’ve earned that courtesy, I would think.”

The gang member looked taken aback by her request. After a bewildered look with one of his compatriots, he opened the door and disappeared inside. This close, Corvo could see the annoyance plastered across Lela’s brow as the minutes passed, and the way her hand shifted every minute or so to the hilt of her sword. A tingle of unease made its way down his neck, and Corvo looked to the surrounding rooftops. It almost felt like someone was watching him, but  his quick scan didn’t show anyone nearby. Putting the thought aside, Corvo resumed his watch on his new ally. Almost ten minutes after her request, the door opened again, and a large man stepped through, his brow furrowed, though the look lightened when he saw Lela.

“Well, if it isn’t the Princess,” he said, his words tinged with a slight burr. “I almost didn’t believe my men when they said it was you.”

“I’ve come to call in that favor you owe me,” Lela repeated, ignoring his overturns of friendly banter. “Crowley’s alive because you trusted me, and I got what you wanted from Bunting. Do this, and we’re even.”

“Just tell me,” Slackjaw said, obviously used to the brusque manner in which she treated him. “A deal’s a deal after all.”

“The Lords Pendleton are at the Golden Cat. I need them taken care of. Quietly.”

“Sounds like something you could have done for yourself.”

“I don’t want bodies lying around,” Lela told him. “I’d prefer if there were no bodies at all.”

“Disappear them all quiet-like?” Slackjaw asked. He rubbed at his moustache, nodding as he considered it. “I have an idea that could work. No bodies, and two more workers for their silver mines.”

If he hadn’t been watching her so carefully, Corvo would have missed the wince that tightened the skin around Lela’s eyes. She gave Slackjaw a sharp nod, turning on her heel and walking away from the gang and its leader.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Princess,” Slackjaw called at her retreating back.

It wasn’t until Lela turned onto a side street with no one else visible that Corvo dropped to ground level. Lela didn’t startle in an obvious way, but her hand removed itself from below her coat as he fell into step with her. 

“Those the kind of people you usually deal with?”

“Thieves and murderers?” Lela asked. He nodded. “The words could describe me as much as them. There are very few of them that I can judge in that regard.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I have to be,” she said. “It’s the only way to fix-” Lela stopped in the middle of her sentence. She shook her head roughly, dislodging some of her dark hair from the tight bun that she kept it in. 

“We can go this way,” Corvo said, filling the silence. Lela followed him, still not saying a word. Corvo tucked the information that she had given him away as he led her down to the riverfront. Thankfully there were no guardsmen wandering the street, and a part of him wondered if that was Curnow’s hand manipulating things in his favor. Either way, it made their transversal to Samuel’s boat all the easier.

“You’ve returned,” Samuel said. There was confusion on his weathered face as he looked to the darkly dressed woman at Corvo’s side. “Where’s the Lady Emily?”

“She-”

“I moved her someplace safer,” Lela said, interrupting him before he could say anything.

“And who are you, little lady?” Samuel asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Lela,” she offered, her voice steadier than when she had given it to Corvo. 

Something sparked in Samuel’s blue eyes, and he gave Lela a deep nod. “I remember your mother, I believe. A good woman, she was.”

“She is missed every day,” Lela said, almost stumbling over the words, though they sounded like something she said often. 

“Well then, shall we head back?”

Corvo narrowed his eyes behind his mask, trying to draw a connection from their vague statements. Lela stepped into the boat as easily as walking down a set of stairs, and took a seat behind Samuel, leaving the seat in the back open for him. Swallowing the unease, Corvo entered the boat as well and took the seat that Lela had left for him. 

The ride along the Wrenhaven was quiet, the few boats that still patrolled its waters mostly old whaling ships with little concern for the riverboat that darted between them. Lela’s eyes were constantly moving along the riversides, as if she expected someone or something to come and attack them. As he continued to watch, he saw her flinch at a sharp slant of sunlight that hit her face. She rubbed at her eyes, letting out a muffled curse. Again the unnatural slant of light hit her face, and she put up her hand to block it.

“Slow down for a minute?” she asked Samuel. 

The boatman did as she asked without question, the boat shuddering to a halt in the middle of an empty patch of river. Lela pulled something from the inside of her jacket, and shoved it into Corvo’s hands. As she redid the buttons on her jacket, he noted the broken wax seal of a letter, with tattered red ribbons wrapped around the heavy stock. 

“What is this?” he asked. 

“Something that I thought I would give you later,” she said. “It’s an invitation a party. Keep it safe for me.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I have to,” she muttered. “Apparently someone has need of me, and I’m loathe to give him reason to distrust me now. Especially now.”

“I can’t go back empty handed,” Corvo told her. “I was supposed to retrieve my-” he stumbled over the word, correcting himself, “Lady Emily. Without you-”

“I didn’t say I was going to let you return without anything,” Lela said. 

With that, she lifted her Marked hand, pulling upwards with what looked like was considerable effort. Shadows rose from the bottom of the boat, twisting in on themselves. Color began to leach away the black, until a perfect replica of Emily stood in front of them. Corvo leaned away as the mimic took a seat next to him, a happy smile on its face. Lela let out a heavy breath, as if she had just run a long distance.

“She’s as corporeal as you or I, and she can take at least one hit before she disappears,” Lela said, gesturing at the thing that she had made. “She’ll last a day or so. I should be around before then to make sure that no one suspects anything is up.”

“You did this before,” Corvo said, reaching out and poking the thing with a finger.

“Ow,” it said in a perfect mimicry of Emily. “That hurt, Corvo.”

“Never seen anything like it,” Samuel said. “I take it that you don’t want me mentioning this to the Admiral and them?”

“If you would,” Lela said. “Things are complicated enough as it is. This simplifies things a bit, actually.”

“Hmmm...” he said, lighting a cigar. “Well, I’ve no reason to. After all, I have picked up the Lady Emily.”

“Thank you, Samuel,” she said, pressing her hand to his shoulder. She turned back to Corvo, the edges of her mask pulling slightly as if she were smiling underneath it. “Be careful, Lord Protector.”

Before he could get a word in, Lela tipped herself over the edge of the riverboat. She splash was enough to get the construct that she had left behind, which grimaced in disgust. Half a minute later Corvo saw her surface and begin pulling herself to the far bank of the river, just outside what had once been the Financial District. 

“Shall we head back, then?” Samuel asked him. “The light’ll be going soon.”

“Did you tell her where we were headed?”

“No,” he answered. “But I reckon the young lady knows where she’s going.”

Corvo nodded, the pit of unease in his stomach growing as Samuel started the boat again. The construct shivered beside him, its dress half-soaked with river water. Before he even formalized the thought, he took off his coat and wrapped it around the mimic. It smiled up at him, thanks in its gaze. Corvo was grateful that the mask covered the revulsion on his face, and looked to the water again. In the time it had taken them to get going again, Lela had vanished.

He could only hope that she hadn’t fucked him over.


	2. two days/three months/six months after the assassination of the empress, 19 Day of High Cold

Two days later, there was a pouch containing less coins than one would expect hanging from his belt as he made his way back to the Financial District. Or the Flooded District, as some of the public had taken to calling it. The breaking of the floodwalls had taken their toll, some of the buildings toppling in the initial gush of water. The building that he and his Whalers had taken was one of the least damaged, and with some fortifications, they had managed to seal off a good portion of the District for their own use. 

It wasn’t home, by far, but then again, there had never been such a thing for people like them. Still, it was nice enough having a roof to block the rain. Some of his people had even formed a makeshift kitchen, roasting fish and whatever meat and vegetables they could scrounge up from the rapidly dwindling markets. The room that he had claimed for himself had most likely been one of the heads of the bank, although most of the trappings that could confirm it had been too damaged by the floodwaters or taken by the early looters.

There had been some books that he had given to the more intellectually minded Whalers after examining them for codes. Most were just ledgers of the wealth of the city, but there were a few that looked to be tracking the imports and exports of the city. Even before the Outsider-damned plague had taken the city there had been a marked decrease in export as foreign ports received news of the illness that was sweeping through the lower districts. Imports had continued as normal, but with the quarantine that had been announced, Daud doubted that anyone but the most daring of pirates would try and break through. And those that did were no doubt idiots, willing to risk the plague taking them and their men for coin. 

A few books and journals Daud kept for his own perusal. The wealthy bankers often overheard much that their clients said, and the less scrupulous wrote down what could be used later. A few of them had been waterlogged, and in one case, clutched in the hand of a corpse, the rot of the body staining the cover and a few of the pages. The leads that he had found had given the his Whalers plenty of opportunities to make coin. 

Transversing into his chambers, Daud tossed the pouch onto his desk, watching as a few coins of ten spilled out onto the wood. The clinking metal was loud in the silence of the room, echoing across the bookshelves and the glass of the doors. A masked face popped into view from behind the glass of the door, before meeting his eyes and vanishing in the blink of an eye. Daud shook his head as he took a seat in his chair, absently looking over at his blackboard. 

The hand drawn maps of the Tower greeted him, the route he and his men had taken marked in vivid red ink. Beside it a pair of dark eyes stared at him. Daud stood up from his chair, turning his back on the portrait and walking to one of the bookshelves where he had stashed a banker’s journal. As he pulled it down from the shelf he could feel the unwavering gaze burning a hole in his back. He pointedly ignored it and walked back to his chair, taking his seat and opening the journal to one of the pages he had marked.

A riveting account of Lady Waverly’s coffers had been transcribed within, the amount totalling almost what the Lady would receive in a month from her late father’s will. Interestingly enough it didn’t appear to have come from that account, rather being a deposit by the Lady herself. The Ladies Boyle, from all accounts that he had seen or heard about from some of his contractors, were living the life of the independently wealthy. There were no businesses that they directly had influence over, and those that were tied to their family paid their dues into the accounts that dispensed their inheritance. 

Daud turned the page, noting with some annoyance that the next few pages had been damaged by water. The next legible page had a withdrawal by Waverly, for the amount of almost fifteen thousand coin, withdrawn three days before the fall of the Financial District. He frowned, flipping between the two most legible pages, before reluctantly trying to piece together what was written in damaged pages. A mark about another deposit caught his eye, although the amount had almost been completely wiped out by water. The number written was close enough that it almost matched the full fifteen thousand that Waverly had withdrawn on the next pages. 

Closing the book, Daud set it on the table. The movement caused a few coins to clink against each other, as the book rested on the forgotten pile. Grimacing, he scraped the coins back into the pouch and tossed them into a drawer on his desk. As he stood up, his eyes met the black ones of the portrait, the regal look that they held almost accusatory.

“It was a job,” he said to it, ignoring the idiocy of speaking to the portrait of a dead woman. 

The picture did not answer, and Daud wiped his hand across his face. Perhaps it was a sign that he needed to sleep. He hadn’t exactly trusted the now-Lord Regent Burrows when he had promised no retribution against Daud or his men for the deed that he had ordered, and had kept watch for that promise to be broken. The announcement of the Corvo Attano, the Empress’ bodyguard, being taken into custody and accused of the crime, had done little to settle his unease. As such, when he had gone to speak with Burrows, he had gone alone, not willing to risk any of his men should the meeting go sour.

And instead he had simply been handed a heavy pouch of coins, the remaining payment for the murder of an empress.  Burrows had even joked of establishing a more permanent relationship in the future. Daud hadn’t said much of anything in return, merely tilting his head in what could have been an agreement or acknowledgement of the Lord’s title before leaving. The idea of becoming a hound at the beck and call of a lord had left a sour taste in his mouth. Those he chose to work for paid well, but that had always been the end of their dealings. That Burrows sought to turn that into something more permanent was a mistake on his part. 

“You would do the same to protect those in your employ,” Daud continued. “One life for fifty is as good as trade as any.”

Except that it wasn’t really one life, and he knew it, much as he tried to lie to himself. The bodyguard would rot in Coldridge Prison until Burrows needed something to prop himself up again and executed the poor bastard. And the girl, the child empress now, would be used by the same men who had ordered the death of her mother. If she was lucky to make it to twenty before an unfortunate demise, he would be surprised. 

The Empress’ death also spelled ruin for the rest of Dunwall, those unlucky enough not to be born with a silvered spoon in their mouth. She had been the one who had championed searching for a cure, tossing coin from the royal treasury at the Academy of Natural Sciences to speed them along. Without her and the compassion she showed, it wouldn’t be long before Weepers were crawling up the walls of Parliament, overrunning the ones who had damned them for something as empty as power.

“I did what needed to be done,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Perhaps if he repeated it enough, he could finally believe it.

“Sir?”

Opening his eyes, Daud glanced at the door. “What is it?”

“Killian’s group has returned,” the boy said, his accent giving Daud a clue as to his identity. A quick glance at the light blue patch on the shoulder of his grey uniform confirmed his identity.

“I thought I saw Killian last night,” Daud replied. “He came in over the back wall, didn’t he?”

“Well, sir...” Thomas trailed off and glanced over his shoulder. Without Daud’s asking, he turned and opened the door. A group of grey dressed Whalers entered, along with a man with an angry expression clad in only his skivvies.

“Report,” Daud ordered.

Killian straightened, the expression falling from his face. “We were unable to deliver the girl to the Golden Cat as directed, sir.”

“You were?”

“Yes, sir. We were intercepted and overpowered before we could make it past the distillery district.”

“And this mysterious attacker didn’t kill you when they had you at their mercy?” Daud asked, letting his suspicion cloud his voice. “Unconscious with an empress in your hands, and all they did was take your clothes.”

For his part, Killian seemed to realize the insanity of what he was claiming. “I suppose so, sir.”

“And the rest of you? You’re agreeing with what he’s saying?”

The other Whalers, Galia, Hobson, and Vladko by the distinctive patches on their gray uniforms, glanced at each other. Vladko and Galia nodded, while Hobson shrugged. There was a hint of uncertainty in their stances, with Galia taking a half-step backwards as Daud turned his gaze on her. He made a mental note to train that out of her; giving ground to an opponent only ensured their victory. 

“Well, as drunk as you four seem to have gotten yourself, you managed to not cock up the assignment,” he told them. “The girl was delivered safely to the Cat. Our new Lord Regent thanked me personally for the work.”

“Master Daud-”

“Silence.”

Killian’s mouth shut at the command. Daud regarded him with an even eye, noting a few odd scrapes around the man’s throat and wrists. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he turned to the three novices, who straightened under the weight of his gaze.

“You three, go down to Misha if he’s in the yard. Any drudgery work he assigns you is to be completed until I say otherwise.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. 

“And next time, don’t lie to me,” Daud told them. “I won’t be as forgiving. Dismissed.”

Galia vanished in a transversal, while Hobson and Vladko walked out of the room. Thomas made to follow them, but stopped when Daud held his hand up. He fell back into parade rest, the dark glass of his mask hiding whatever expression in his eyes. Killian closed his eyes as Daud turned and walked back to his desk. The gulp he made as Daud stopped seemed to reverberate through the room. 

Scratching a quick note on a scrap of paper, he turned back around. Killian almost shrank back as the paper was thrust into his hands. As he read it a confused look came over his face, his eyes meeting Daud’s with something less than the fear that raced over his limbs.

“Get a new uniform from Coleman and then report to Rapha. When you’ve earned it, maybe you’ll don the blues again. Dismissed.”

Killian’s hands still shook as he dipped into a short bow. Turning, he walked through the door, averting his eyes as Thomas looked at him. Daud frowned at the young man’s retreating back. He had seen him appear on the edge of the wall of the District, but instead of traversing away, Killian had walked. Putting the thought out of his mind, Daud turned his attention to Thomas. For his part, Thomas had the courtesy to look completely at ease. A slight tremor in his left arm was the only thing that gave away the nervousness that he felt. Daud bit the inside of his cheek to stop a smirk. 

“How long have you been here, Thomas?”

“Eight years, Master Daud,” Thomas said. 

Daud nodded, taking a few steps around the room as he contemplated his decision. “You were trained by Billie, correct?”

“In some things, yes. When she was busy Leon took care of my training.”

“And neither of them have recommended you for a promotion? You’ve been here longer than Killian, and he was made a master.”

“They must not have thought me ready,” he said. 

“Or Billie’s too worried about her first apprentice not making the cut,” Daud replied. Thomas’ head canted slightly, silently asking a question. Daud sighed, making his way over to his desk again and leaning up against the edge. Two days with little sleep was pushing his capabilities, his aging body protesting the lack.

“Where is Billie?” he asked, looking up sharply. 

“She’s out, sir,” Thomas told him. “She didn’t say, but I assumed she was scouting for a contract.”

Daud nodded. Slackjaw had been pressing for them to rob a safe for him, and Billie would have known about the contract. The contract that he was planning on cancelling, if only to have their people lay low for awhile. It would cost them their safe passage through the Distillery District for the next few months until he could work out another deal with the drunken gang leader, but without sure knowledge of what would happen now that power in the capital had shifted, Daud considered it to be an acceptable loss. 

“When she returns in the morning, we’ll invest you properly,” Daud informed Thomas. The young man looked up at him, surprise in his posture, if not in his hidden face. Daud couldn’t help the way the edges of his mouth turned up slightly. “Go and have Coleman find you the proper clothes.”

“Thank you, Master Daud.”

“Don’t thank me,” Daud said, shifting away from his desk. “This is your achievement, and yours alone. Do not let others take that from you.”

“Yes sir.”

Daud jerked his chin towards the door. Much like Galia before him, Thomas vanished in a scattering of ashes that disappeared before touching the floor. After giving the room a quick scan, Daud let himself relax unobserved. Pulling his gloves off, he dropped them on the desk. Free from the stiff leather, Daud spared a glance for the dark mark that stood out even against his tanned skin. A faint gleam seemed to cross it, but it was gone before he could even determine if it had been there or not. 

Closing his eyes, Daud headed towards the stairs and pulled himself upstairs. His boots were discarded at the edge of the bed, within easy reach if he were awakened in the middle of the night. Taking a seat on the bed, it was a deliberation of seconds that had him laying his head down on the lumpy pillow instead of disrobing entirely. Within the space of heartbeats, Daud felt his vision fade, and willingly surrendered himself to a much needed rest.

Only to wake up in a blue-tinted void, streaked through with grays and blacks darker than the night sky. A snarl crossed his countenance before Daud could stop it. Within a moment he schooled his face back into an expressionless mask. He had no doubt the little slip-up would please the black-eyed bastard. As he looked around, taking in his surroundings, Daud fought the urge to flinch. The body of the empress, frozen on the ground, looked to be made out of cold marble, painted with garish colors in a mockery of life. 

“Did I ruin something of yours?” he asked the void. “Or have you simply called me here for a social visit?”

There was no answer, but Daud hadn’t expected one. Turning from the body, He wasn’t surprised to see a cobblestone roadway heaving itself from the depths of the void, leading in a direction that served as up. It was obviously a summons, like all the others he had faced before. Rather than make his way as quickly as possible, Daud meandered down the path, using his powers to traverse a gap that appeared under his feet without warning when he strayed too far from the intended path. Far too soon it led him to the entrance to the throne room. Steeling himself, Daud stepped through, only for the image to warp in front of his eyes.

The polished oaken wood of the room had been cracked, blacked roots growing through them. A few white roses bloomed along the bottom of the pillars, though they looked to be in the process of dying, choked by the ferns that surrounded them. A few statues, grey and lifeless compared to that of the dead empress, stood near the throne, one of them lunging forward as if to grab something. 

**_“Daud,”_ ** a voice whispered in his ear.  **_“My old friend.”_ **

A glance to the side let him see the Outsider standing beside him. The young-looking deity was regarding the room with what looked like interest, an expression that Daud had come to recognize over the years. 

“Is there a reason you’ve decided to show yourself to me again?” Daud asked, walking to one of the pillars.

**_“It has been a long time,”_ ** the Outsider agreed, his voice echoing around the room. **_“The years have passed and bodies have fallen under your blade. And yet this one was different.”_ **

Daud bent down and pressed the petals of one of the roses between his fingers. “So because I’ve killed an empress, you grew curious again?”

**_“It is.”_ **

The Outsider appeared in front of him, the dark eyes finding his own with an intent that would have made any other man look away. Daud met them steadily, his fingers finding the stem of the rose and plucking it. Daud broke the staring contest as he rose, the flower held between his fingers like a prize. The Outsider’s expression changed, his head tilting to the side as he appeared to consider something.

**_“It was,”_ ** he continued.  **_“It may yet be. The pieces have tumbled across the board, and a pawn has become a queen.”_ **

“That doesn’t make sense and you know it,” Daud said. “I’ve no patience for your riddles or games any more.”

**_“The game has changed. You saw to that yourself. All the pieces are wandering around, and moves that were made are not; moves that were not fall into place. She knows that her presence changes things.”_ **

“Baiting me won’t work.”

**_“Did you know that there will be nine in the world bearing my mark?”_ ** the Outsider asked him.  **_“Four  who use it for nothing more than parlour tricks; one about to die; one gone to madness; one born to rule; one who seeks power; one yet to know. And you, Daud, the murderer of an empress.”_ **

“Surely one of them is a better conversationalist than me,” he replied. “This was a job, like any of the others.”

A gruesome grin that spoke of the deepest parts of the ocean where no man sailed unless he wished a painful death crossed the Outsider’s face. **_“The Empress was different. The shadows will not hide you from the consequences. Even changes that she makes may not make a difference. The end of the Knife’s tale is coming, and you will not escape it. Your only choice lies in what you will make of it.”_ **

It would have been stupidity to think that the trickster would come bearing good news. It would have been kinder to simply let him fall forever in the void than give him the knowledge of his impending demise.

**_“Let this be a gift to you, Daud,”_ ** the Outsider said.  **_“A mystery. One that starts with a name. Delilah.”_ **

The Outsider faded from his view, and Daud sat up on his bed with a choked cry on his lips. The name rattled around his skull, lodging against the guilt that had begun to fester with the empress’ death. Wearily, Daud wiped his hand across his face. The weak rays of the early morning sun were peeking through the dark clouds of Dunwall, the signal for a new day. With a grumble, Daud redressed himself, letting the name rest as he prepared for the day’s plans.

 

* * *

 

In three days the stench of burning bodies still hadn’t fully left the District. Daud wrinkled his nose as he watched his men shore up some of the walkways with new planking, covering bloodstains that were impossible to wash away. There had been losses on both sides, but the eight that were his burned almost as hotly as their bodies. 

Daud found his eyes drawn to the mostly repaired walkway that led to the entrance to their main stronghold. Montgomery had fallen there, his gut cut open and spilling across the wood. Just beyond the entrance was where the Overseers had come upon Bertram with a cut that had nearly taken off his head. The Overseers that had taken their lives now sat in the hastily constructed prisons inside the Greaves Refinery, awaiting his decision of their punishment. 

More had fled while he had discovered the treachery wrought by his own Second. His men had been eager to chase after them and bring them to the kind of justice that assassins knew well, but he had dismissed their pleas. Those that had come now knew that their leader, Hume, had been in contact with a witch and heretics. The mere idea that the corruption witches and heretics held could diminish their own standing was enough to keep them silent.

The sound of someone appearing at his side was enough to break him out of the pointless exercise in hindsight. Thomas stood at attention, waiting to be acknowledged. His mask was off, though it looked to have been recently removed judging by the way his light brown hair was plastered to his head. There was a slight look of discomfort on his face, though Daud wasn’t sure if it was the smell or the burdens of his new position that caused it.

“Any news?”

“Vladko and Tynan are going to make it according to Kent,” Thomas reported. “Vladko’s going to lose three fingers, but it could have been worse.”

“Put him under Pavel when Arden releases him, then. He’s going to have to learn how to hold a sword again, and Pavel’s good for that. Tynan?”

“Swearing up a storm, but there’s been no sign of infection. Kent says that he should be fine for walking in a week, but anything more stressful could reopen the wound.”

Daud grunted, watching the main entrance. Thomas relaxed next to him, slowly remembering that he was almost Daud’s equal. Unlike his relationship with Billie, Thomas seemed more content to keep a distance between them. After Billie’s betrayal, Daud understood the deeper meaning that this held, although Thomas had nothing to fear from him. Billie’s disloyalty was his own fault, and nothing that anyone else could have seen coming.

“The patrol’s not back yet?” Thomas asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“No.”

Another ten minutes passed in silence as they kept their watch. Thomas was silent, keeping his own counsel, for which Daud was surprised. Billie had always been full of questions up until whatever had caused the rift between them. A part of him, small and growing smaller as he tried to squash it down into the deepest pits of his memory, missed the woman. She had been his first true apprentice, the one that he had declared a master in her own right. He could remember the way she had given him a small smile as she donned her red coat.

The sound of the gate opening forced his wandering mind back to the present. A group of five whalers walked in, two he recognized as Galia and Hobson tossing a greeting to Carlo as he nailed the new boards in place. Behind them, Petro and Dmitri were locked in some sort of disagreement, if the tight draw of their shoulders and the short movements they made with their arms was any indication. The fifth walked stood farther back, the mask turning from side to side as they examined the walkway.

Without signaling Thomas, Daud traversed in front of Galia and Hobson, drawing the novices up short lest they bump into him. They gave him short bows as Petro and Dmitri closed their argument at his appearance.

“Report.”

“Outside perimeter is clear, sir,” Galia said. “There were some Weepers shambling about outside the refinery, but nowhere near our prisoners.”

“No new watchpoints near any of the major entrances or exits to the District,” Petro added. “It looks like we’re going to be left alone for awhile.”

“Nothing unusual, then?” Daud asked, walking around them to the outside edge of the walkway. From this angle he could see Carlo pulling the nails free from a bloodstained board, tossing it to the ground below before slotting the new piece into place. Casually, Daud put his hands on his belt, drawing the first inch of his blade free without a sound. “No one to be concerned about?”

Before Petro could answer, Daud turned and thrust his sword at the fifth member of their party. Just as the blade would have pierced the intruder’s chest a blade sprung out of nowhere and parried it to the side. The blank mask gave no impression that the wearer was surprised, but there was a faint tremble to the blade as the intruder raised their blade again.

“Smart, getting a uniform of one of my men,” Daud said. The masked figure said nothing, but allowed him to move in front of his own men, who had drawn their blades at his attack. “But you obviously have old intelligence. Killian died three days ago.”

The intruder rocked back on their feet, just enough of an ameteur move to give Daud an opening. Their blades crashed again as the intruder barely got their sword up in time to block the attack and send his blade sinking into the wooden platform instead. He rolled backwards to avoid a knee that would have shattered his nose. It caught his chin instead, rattling his teeth but sparing him the blinding agony. 

Thomas appeared next to him as he got to his feet again, grabbing him by the arm to steady him. As he shook his head to clear it, Petro charged forward, traversing behind the intruder before making his attack. The intruder let out a grunt as the blade hit the heavy fabric of the whaling uniform, twisting with the blade to avoid a more serious injury. Their foot kicked backwards as they did, striking Petro below the belt and sending him to his knees. 

Seeing Petro fall, Galia and Dimitri rushed the woman. Too late to act, they missed the short crossbow that the intruder pulled from the belt of their purloined outfit. They both sunk to the ground, Galia with an arrow in her throat, and Hobson with one in his chest. Daud flung his arm out, catching Hobson before he could attack as well. A red haze seemed to settle around his vision as he stalked towards the one that had taken out three of his people.

The intruder took a step back and over Petro. As he tried to grab at her leg, still gasping in pain, her sword hand came down on the back of his head. Petro fell forward, insensate, as the intruder continued to move backwards. With a speed that many didn’t realize he had, Daud dashed at them, deftly stepping around the bodies of his men. 

A flurry of blows was met with a sidestep, the intruder appearing to dance around his strikes. As he passed, the intruder aimed a kick at his backside. Daud felt it impact even through the padded armor he wore under his coat, and rolled with the momentum. Gaining his feet back, Daud pulled at the void, forcing time around him to slow. The draw was taxing, and knowing the seconds he had, Daud ran at the intruder. 

Just before his blade could piece the whaling mask the flow of time resumed. Daud snarled as he felt the blade catch on the inside of the mask without the feeling of having passed through flesh. The intruder struggled for a moment, dropping their crossbow to the catwalk to fumble at their neck. He realized to late what they meant to do, and the mask hung in the air as the intruder dropped into a crouch beneath it. 

A pair of dark eyes looked up at him from beneath a crown of black hair. They were calculating, though there was a hint of fear behind them. Daud felt a thrill of satisfaction at the reaction, his eyes darting over her head to the bodies of the men she had killed. Instead of seeing corpses, however, he saw Galia lift her head and pull the bolt from her neck, and Thomas helping a stumbling Petro to his feet. 

A pair of arms wrapping around his abdomen drew his attention back to the woman. As his feet left the platform, Daud took a moment to curse his distraction. The impact with the ground stole the air from his lungs, the woman rolling off of him and into a ready crouch. Daud wheezed as his hand sought his blade. He found the blade buried in the muck that coated the ground, and held it at his side as he stood. She didn’t move away, but mirrored the way he held his blade, her left hand clutching at the empty air. 

Daud took the stand-off to look over his opponent. With her garbed in his men’s clothing, it was hard to tell if she had anything else hidden on her person. A dark mask with curling golden stitching covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes and hair as identifying marks. He ground his teeth together as he tried to find anything that could identify her beyond them. Dark hair and eyes were common to half the isles, and with the tight bun that the woman’s hair was bound in, it was impossible to even guess at the length.

From the corner of his eye he could see Thomas with a crossbow, the bolt primed and aimed towards the intruder. A quick shake of his head had his second lower the weapon. Thomas’ face showed more than he likely intended, including his fear for their leader. Daud fel the corner of his mouth twitch up, almost touched by the sentiment.

“Who sent you?” he asked when she made no move to attack.

“No one,” she replied. “I sent myself.”

There was a hint of a noble accent to her words, but it was marred by something that one would find in the lowest districts of the city. There was also something of a Serkonan to her voice, as if one of the people who had taught her to speak had come from the island. 

“Why have you come here and attacked my men?”

“I only defended myself,” she said. “I had no intention of harming anyone.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Daud said. “You come here three days after we were invaded and say that you didn’t come here to attack us?”

“I only heard about the attack after it happened,” the woman told him. “I was otherwise occupied.”

“And so you came to investigate.”

“I had been debating it since I stole the uniform. I am sorry to hear about death of your man, Master Daud.”

Daud’s brow wrinkled at the sincerity in her voice. Her eyes had softened at the words, lending even more credibility to her consolation. Even more surprising was her use of his name. Very few of the men and women who paid for his services knew him as someone other than the Knife of Dunwall.

“Are you satisfied, then?”

“Well enough,” she said. “It took me awhile to find your men, and I was looking for them. It’s not surprising that you and your men were able to get close enough to kill the empress.”

Daud’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” she said. “But who else could have done it and made it appear like the Empress’ most beloved Lord Protector had murdered her?”

“You know nothing-”

“I know enough. I’m not here to fight over someone long dead, much as I’d like to,” she said, her words taking a bitter edge. “I’m here to hire you.”

“I won’t kill for you,” Daud told her. 

“I wouldn’t want you to, “ the woman replied. “It’d make me something of a hypocrite, and I’m trying to fix that about myself. And I don’t want to hire you, precisely.”

“Then why bother hiring me?”

“I want to hire your men,” she said. “I’ve seen them around occasionally, usually before something goes missing. So I imagine they’re very good at gathering information.”

“You want my men to spy for you,” Daud said dryly. 

“I have blind spots,” she said. “I can’t be everywhere, and things slip through my fingers sometimes. Like the knowledge of the attack on your base of operations.”

“That’s all you want,” Daud asked. “A legion of spies under your payroll.”

“I wouldn’t say that they’re a legion,” the woman said. “But they are more of them than one of me.”

Daud pretended to consider her for a moment. Her stance had opened during their conversation, her sword hanging loosely in her right hand. Her left was unarmed, and there didn’t appear to be any other weapons on her person. There was always the possibility that she could fight with her left hand as well as her right, but there were very few swordsmen who could with any real proficiency. 

“I can pay you,” she said, her left hand disappearing inside the coat she wore. 

Daud tensed until she pulled out a large pouch and tossed it to him. She had arched it high, allowing him to easily snatch it out of the air. It was as heavy as it looked, and a quick look inside showed a significant amount of coin in gold and copper. From eyesight alone it looked to be worth at least five hundred coin, if not a bit more.

“That’s a down payment, in trust,” the woman said. “A promise towards our working arrangement.”

“And if there is to be no arrangement?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and her left hand reached out to him. Almost as if in slow motion, Daud saw a mass of writhing purple ropes extend from her hand. They wrapped themselves around him in the time between seconds and drew him towards her. The sword in her hand came up, even with his throat. Even as he tried to move his sword up to block it, he knew he would be too late. A small hand hit his chest, arresting his movement before the steel could bisect his head from his neck, the cold metal resting easily against him.

A voice, soft as the ocean but still ready to pull one under like a riptide, whispered a reminder in his mind. There were nine, he had said, who carried the mark. Judging from the tang of the void that filled his senses as she held him millimeters from his sword, it wasn’t hard to guess that this was another of the black-eyed bastard’s chosen.

“I would have killed you, once,” the woman said, her voice much clearer now that he was close to her. “Perhaps I will, one day. But right now, know that I mean you no real harm.”

“Hard to believe with a blade against your throat,” Daud told her.

The woman’s head tilted to the side, a look of curiosity in her eyes. “You’re not afraid of death, are you?”

“It comes eventually to all men,” Daud said. “By your hand or another's. This job isn’t one where you die peacefully in your sleep.”

“Well, I’m not going to kill you,” she said, pushing him back a few steps. “I’ve only come to make a business arrangement.”

“I still haven’t agreed.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she asked. “Nothing about this contract requires blood to be spilt. All I’m asking for is information.”

“Where would you like my men to look for you?” Daud asked, taking another step backwards. 

“The Tower, if you can,” the woman said. “The security has tightened since the Empress’ death. The Boyle Estate, as well as a small pub on the outskirts of the Wrenhaven by the name of the Hound Pits. And the Golden Cat.”

“Not the Cat,” Daud said. 

The woman nodded, the edges of her eyes crinkling slightly in mirth. “Ah, yes, my apologies. I imagine that you would like to stay very far away from where the Lady Emily is supposed to be.”

“How do you know where she is,” Daud asked, his tone lowering so that it was less of a question and more of a demand. 

“Well, I know where she isn’t,” the woman said. “She never made it to the Golden Cat. I made sure of that.”

“Then my men told the truth that night?”

“I don’t know what they told you, but I did take her from them. She’s safe from all of this.”

“They said the same thing about the Empress.”

Quick as a viper, her blade was at his throat again. “I almost think you’re trying to get me to kill you, Master Daud.”

“Just testing the boundaries of our relationship. Wouldn’t want to mar that pretty blade of yours with my blood.”

“Don’t mention her and we’ll be fine,” the woman said. “So, do we have an agreement?”

“Just the surveillance of those houses.”

The woman paused, her eyes flickering up to the group of men that were gathered above them. “I’d like to spar with your men whenever possible. I’d hate to get rusty.”

“It’ll cost you.”

“Done.”

“You haven’t even asked the price,” Daud said, a chuckle barely concealed behind the words. 

“I’ll add another five hundred coin to the down payment,” she said. “Delivered tomorrow, if you’d like. How much for their services, all together?”

“Fifteen hundred a month,” he said. 

The woman nodded, not even looking perturbed at the amount. “That won’t be an issue. When should I have the payment to you?”

“Tomorrow. With the added down payment.”

“I can do that.”

“And I’ll need a name for my men to report to.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she looked around the courtyard. If Daud had been a betting man, he would have guessed that she was stalling. And judging by the accent and the almost unmarred condition of her skin, it was easy enough to place her among the upper echelons of society. Perhaps the bastard daughter of one of the nobles, educated well enough and provided lessons in sword fighting to even hold him off. It narrowed the families that she could belong to, but none that he knew of had a bastard near enough the age of the  woman in front of him.

“Drexel,” she told him. “You can use the name Drexel.”

“Afraid of someone finding out who you are?” Daud asked. 

“It’s safer this way,” Drexel said, a hint of fear in her eyes. “For all of us.”

Before he could respond, Drexel stretched her left arm behind her, the tendrils extending from her arm and pulling her away. Within seconds she had disappeared from their sight, and Daud relaxed. He could hear the novices above him muttering at the strange occurrence. Rather than let it continue, Daud traversed to the catwalk, his muddy boots leaving marks upon the wood. The novices parted as he and Thomas began walking back to their base, falling into formation behind them.

“Thomas, put Brendan, Scott, and Aedan on the places she mentioned.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell them to watch out for her while they’re out. She’s probably been keeping an eye on those places by herself.”

“What about the sparring,” Thomas asked. “Are you really going to let her fight against our people?”

“Training blades only,” Daud said. “And I want her monitored while she’s here.”

“You don’t trust her.”

“I trust that she’ll keep her word,” he replied. “She could have easily taken out the three of them, yet she simply knocked them out. If she had wanted to make a point, she would have killed them.”

“You trust her because she didn’t kill them?”

“I trust that she’ll do whatever it takes to keep this contract in a working fashion. But I want people on her in case that changes.”

“Should I have someone tail her when she leaves tomorrow?”

“No, that will tip our hand,” Daud said, waving him off. “Just make sure that someone is watching her while she’s here.”

“Of course. Is there anything else?”

“I need you to look up an old friend of ours, Lizzie Stride. I think we’ll need her assistance before long.”

 

* * *

 

Daud drew the last restraint tight against Feodor’s chest, pinning the spasming man to the bed. His head still thrashed on the pillow, but he was less likely to injure himself or others if he was confined. On the other side of the bed Kent was panting, a bright red weal on his face from Feodor’s fevered convulsions. 

“Why did you send for her?” Daud asked, leaning back against the wall. 

“We talked about poisons one day,” Kent said. “After a spar. I don’t recognize whatever is causing this, but perhaps she will. It’s worth a shot. With the way his fever is climbing, I doubt he’ll survive the night.”

‘We’ll be lucky if someone is able to find her.”

“There were reports that she’s been hanging around the Golden Cat,“ Kent said. “Clavering Boulevard isn’t that large, especially with those Walls of Light restricting access. Someone will see her.”

“Who did you send?”

“Petro. He’s the least injured from our latest escapade. And I thought the Hatters could be vicious.”

“Never cross a witch,” Daud told him. “And if you do, kill it before it kills you.”

“You never said if your Delilah was dead or not.”

“She’s gone, that’s all that matters.”

“So,” Kent said, a little forced humor in his voice. “Back to the normal jobs?”

A strangled whimper from Feodor stopped Daud from answering. As Kent checked to make sure that his compatriot wasn’t choking on his own spit, Daud looked down at his hands. Unlike the end of many of his previous jobs, the ones from a time he now marked as before the Empress, there was little blood on his gloves. Most of it had come from Feodor while they untangled him from the strange plant that the witches had cultivated. As soon as it had been cut away from him the plant had withered, leaving nothing but a rotting brown pile.

“Give him some water or something,” Daud said as they watched Feodor cough. 

“I can’t,” Kent said. “I tried before he got this bad and all it did was make him sick. Unless you want him to choke on his own vomit-”

The sound of a raised conversation reached their ears, cutting off the rest of Kent’s tongue lashing. Daud stood as he recognized Thomas’ voice, his second sounding agitated. Signaling to Kent that he should stay with Feodor, Daud went to the door and slipped out into the hallway. As he turned the corner he saw Thomas blocking the way of Drexel, who looked as annoyed as she could with the half-mask covering her face.

“I told you, Kent sent for me,” she said. “Let me pass, Thomas.”

“Kent isn’t in charge here.”

“Well then get Daud here, and we’ll let him decide.”

Daud cleared his throat, and two sets of eyes found his. Like always, Drexel met his gaze with no fear, her hair plastered to her skull from what looked like river water. The edges of her coat hung heavily towards the floor, dripping as well.

“Is there a problem, Thomas?” Daud asked. 

“Petro said she was with the masked man that’s been seen around. The one who branded the High Overseer,” he reported.

“He’s an acquaintance,” Drexel said, cutting in. “I was helping him with some crucial business.”

“Most women don’t go out of their way to help men who escape from Coldridge,” Daud said, leveraging a guess.

“Most women don’t make deals with assassins,” she shot back, neatly sidestepping his unasked question.

“You’d be surprised.”

A look passed over her face, one that spoke to an old hurt. “Perhaps. But Petro said you had need of me, not knowledge of the person I was with.”

“Sir, if she was with  _ him _ -”

“Are you so childish to speak around his name?” Drexel asked, cutting Thomas off. “The man who your master sent to prison for a crime he committed?”

“You aren’t saying his name either,” Thomas said.

“And I’m not the one cowering in fear at the thought of him.”

“Both of you, shut up.”

Neither of them said anything at the growled command. Drexel looked taken aback, her eyes wide above the edge of her mask. Daud took in a deep breath through his nose, pinching the bridge as he surveyed the two. Thomas bore the scrutiny, but Drexel looked to be regaining her composure from his outburst.

“You were called, Drexel. Thomas, we’ll discuss her companion later,” Daud said. “The ward is just ahead. Thomas, follow.”

Drexel breezed past him, her shoulders tight at his slight rebuke. Thomas nodded to Daud as he fell in at his right shoulder. As they entered Drexel stopped, taking a deep breath of air and sneezing. Her hand went to her mask, as if she was afraid that it would slip, and sneezed twice more in quick succession.

“How do you even work in here?” she asked as she walked over to Feodor. “There’s enough rot in here to poison the entire nobility.”

“We make do with what we have,” Daud said before Kent could reply. “If you would, I believe there are more important matters at the moment.”

Rolling her eyes, Drexel went to Feodor’s bedside. Her small hands grabbed his wrist with surprising strength, holding it steady as she looked to keep some sort of count. Just as quickly as she had grabbed him, she released and went to his face. Her fingers pulled his eyelids open, and she examined his bloodshot eyes. Without comment she went to his mouth, grabbing his chin and forehead and forcing him to open it.

“Did he ingest anything?” she asked, still examining his mouth.

“Nothing recently,” Kent told her.

“Has he been sick?”

“He threw up when I tried to give him water.”

“And the fever?”

“Since about an hour ago. It hasn’t risen, but...”

“It will start to,” Drexel said, releasing her hold on Feodor. “It doesn’t make any sense, but it almost looks like star poppy poisoning.”

“You need to ingest star poppy,” Kent said.

“I told you, it doesn’t make any sense,” she replied. “There’s no white spots on his gums like there would be if he ate it. All he has are these little scratches-”

“The vine?” Daud volunteered. The two looked at him, almost as if they had forgotten that he was there. “Could the poison have been given to him through the thorns?”

“Star poppy doesn’t have thorns,” Drexel said.

At the same time, Kent nodded enthusiastically. “It’s possible,” he said. “It could have been possible, considering all the plants we found in the greenhouses. “

“Can you fix him?” Daud asked.

“I’ll need some krust bile, but I should be able to flush it from his system,” Kent said. “The bastard won’t be saying thank you, but he’ll live.”

“Do it, then,” Daud said. “Drexel, Thomas, my office.”

He could almost hear the disdain from Drexel as he left the sickroom. Thomas stayed at his position at his back. A few people tried to gain Daud’s attention as he walked by, but he waved them all away. The feeling that had begun to gnaw at him after he shoved Delilah into a painting of her own making was back now that he was assured of Feodor’s survival. After the third or fourth dismissal, Daud could feel Thomas’ eyes burning in the back of his skull. 

“I’ll explain in my office,” he said, turning back to him. 

Thomas nodded, a guarded expression on his face. Looking past him, Daud saw Drexel following some twenty-odd paces behind them, as if her destination barely coincided with their own. When they made it to the office she strolled in behind, throwing the door closed behind her. She crossed her arms as Daud took a seat behind his desk and Thomas leaned against one of the pillars. 

“Is there a problem with my information network?” she asked before he could say anything.

“No.”

“Did Feodor injure himself on my account? I’m willing to pay for the injury.”

“No.”

“Then what happens to be the problem, Daud?” Drexel said. “Our transactions don’t seem to be in peril. And who I associate should be no concern of yours.”

“It is if it puts our business in the middle,” Daud said. “You’ve said it yourself, I killed the bodyguard’s charge. If you think he’s going to let me live, you’re more naive than I already think.”

“Corvo won’t kill you,” she said. “He doesn’t even know where you are.”

“He’ll turn over every rock in this city now that he has his girl back,” he replied. “Giving her justice for what I did-”

“He doesn’t have Emily.”

Daud stopped at her interruption, wheels grinding to a halt in his head. “What.”

“I didn’t give her to him,” Drexel said. She shifted her balance slightly, surveying both of them. “I told you, she’s safer where she is.”

“Safer than with the Royal Protector?”

“Among others,” she said. “She’s with someone I trust. That’s all you need to know.”

“Even without her, he wants me dead,” Daud said, rapidly reorganizing his ideas. “I took something from him.”

“You did,” Drexel agreed. “Your death won’t change what he’s lost.”

“Then you are more naive than I thought,” he told her.

“We’ll see.”

“You will. When the bodyguard kills me-”

“If he kills you,” Drexel interrupted.

“ _ When _ the bodyguard kills me,” Daud continued, resolutely ignoring her correction, “you are going to need to know who to go to. Thomas is my second, and will succeed me in the case of my death. He’ll be in charge of any contracts, including yours, from that point onwards.”

“If you die,” she repeated. 

“Drexel,” Thomas said.

“He’s being an idiot,” Drexel said, turning towards him. “He honestly believe that Corvo will kill him on m-”

Drexel stopped, biting off whatever she had begun to say. Daud and Thomas waited as she turned away from them and paced the floor. Her steps were regimented, a neat five step and turn, as if the space she was imagining was much smaller. After a half-minute she stopped and turned to them again.

“The discussion can wait until after the death you claim is coming for you,” she told Daud. “Until then, business as normal.”

“If you insist,” Daud said, standing from his chair. “A new report should be ready for you soon.”

Drexel nodded, her eyes narrowing as she considered him. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow to look it over.”

“We do have rooms if you’d prefer to have it at first light,” he offered.

“Have I ever taken that offer?” she asked, the first hint of humor entering her voice after their dark discussions.

“I try and keep my clients alive as long as they pay me,” he said. 

“Then I have good reason to pay you the day after tomorrow.”

Drexel turned on her heel and was out the door before he could say another word. Thomas looked to Daud, tilting his head towards the sound of her vanishing footfalls. Daud nodded, and Thomas set off at a brisk walk, the door clicking shut behind him.

Once he was gone, Daud looked around his office. There were a few stray papers lying about, discussing former business dealings or patrol routes for his men. He opened a drawer, intending to stuff them in, only to find a pouch sitting in it. Putting the papers back, he reached in and pulled it out, hearing the coins rattle against one another in the bag. 

The black silk bag was unremarkable, but it only took a moment for him to recognize it. The price of an empress rested in his hands. Dropping the pouch back into the drawer, he slammed it closed and stalked up the stairs to his bed. As he pulled the sheets over himself, Daud closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the nightmares of a masked man.


	3. six months after the assassination of the empress, 22 Day of High Cold

Corvo stripped off his outer layer of clothes, hanging the sodden coat next to the fire. Hopefully the wool would be dry enough for him to wear in the morning. Even if it wasn’t, it would be dry enough to wear in the chilly morning air. Running his fingers through his hair, Corvo held his hands to the fire for a moment to warm them. The hours spent navigating Kaldwin Bridge had left an ache from the small spaces that he had shoved his fingers to have a handhold. 

Shaking his hands out, Corvo walked to the window and the small bridge that connected it to the rooms where Emily was to sleep. There hadn’t been a commotion when he had returned, which only meant that the mimic that Lela had given to him had kept. The metal and wood creaked under his feet as he made his way over, the evening sky quickly turning dark overhead. As he walked he could see Pendleton and Havelock talking outside the room where they had stashed Sokolov. Or, rather, he could see Pendleton waving his arms and Havelock saying nothing.

Corvo looked away and continued on his path. Pendleton had been cordial to him after he had returned from the Golden Cat with the apparent empress by his side. It had only been before his mission to retrieve Sokolov that the new Lord had taken him aside and thanked him for dealing with his brothers in a manner that left them alive. He had tried to offer him money, but Corvo had pushed it back into his hands, muttering something inconsequential before heading on his way.

If Lela had not been there, had not offered an alternative to what he had steeled himself for, would Pendleton have been as thankful? The idea that he owed more to the strange woman was terrifying, considering that the life of his daughter hung only on Lela’s benevolence. If she decided that things would be better without Emily alive, how could he put up any resistance to her plan? Serkonos was three weeks away by boat, made even harder by the blockade that had been enforced in the harbor. By the time he reached the city it was possible that the order for Emily’s death had already been carried out.

Shaking away the dark thoughts, Corvo opened the door to the room just enough to slip in. Callista sat in a chair, a book hanging out of her lap and her head bowed in sleep. In the bed next to her was the construct, bundled up in sheets. As he took a step into the room, it shifted, turning towards him and opening its eyes. With an unsettling accuracy it met his eyes, and a hand poked out and waved him closer. Taking care not to disturb Callista, Corvo crept over and knelt at its bedside.

“She’s up on the roof,” the construct said, its hands cupped around its mouth. “She’s waiting for you.”

A shiver ran down his spine at the whispered words. He nodded, heading back to the door and shutting it behind him. As he did the feeling of being watched by the void-created thing vanished, letting him release a breath he didn’t realize that he was holding. The doppelganger of Emily was disturbing on multiple levels, not including the now apparent fact that it did not need to sleep.

A quick blink brought him to the top of the outbuilding. Lela sat in the corner, her head bowed and her arms wrapped around herself. It took a minute for Corvo to realize that she was sleeping, her chest rising and falling in an even pattern. Unsure of what to do, he took a seat on the edge, his back to the open air. Ten minutes passed, and Lela didn’t stir. After deliberating, Corvo pulled a loose pebble from one of the bricks and tossed it at her head. It hit, and she startled awake. 

“Have a nice rest?” Corvo asked as she blinked and looked around.

“Nice enough,” she replied with a grunt. “I was expecting you would be here when I got back.”

“There were other plans,” Corvo said. “I trust whatever friend you had to visit-”

“Business partner,” Lela corrected.

“Your partner, then,” he acquiesced. “I trust there are no immediate problems with him.”

“One, actually. It’s part of the reason I’m here.”

“Other than to see if I would reveal your fake empress for what she is?”

“You wouldn’t have,” Lela said with a yawn. She stretched her hands over her head as she stood, her joints audibly popping in the silent air. “You’re an honest man, Lord Protector.”

“You know nothing about me,” he told her. 

“I know more than most,” she replied. “Six months in Coldridge aren’t enough to make you cruel. The death of your...” 

She paused, her eyes leaving his for the first time in their conversation. She looked over the river, in the direction of the Tower. The slanting sunlight hit her eyes at just the right angle for Corvo to see something at the edge of her lids. She blinked rapidly as she turned back to him, letting out a deep breath.

“The death of the empress didn’t change you. You have more morals than half the people in this city. And the daughter of your empress is the most important thing to you, which means that you’ll work with people you wouldn’t have dreamed of before to make this place safe for her again. Giving you a decoy ensures her safety. You wouldn’t have risked that.”

“That’s a strong guess,” he said.

“I have a pretty good idea that it’s the truth,” Lela said. “Which is why I’m asking you to trust me again.”

“With what?”

“I can’t tell you,” she said. Before he could say anything, Lela held up a hand. “I can’t tell you what I want to. It would violate the terms of my agreement with my partner.”

“You must trust him a lot to swear him those terms,” Corvo said, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I trust him no further than the length of my sword,” Lela said, an amused huff following the words. “But he has been useful to me in these last three months. And I need him to be willing to include you in our dealings.”

“Who is your business partner?”

“An information broker, in my case.”

“And in other cases?” Corvo asked, a hint of steel entering his voice. 

“You would have to ask him,” Lela said, meeting his tone with a hard gaze. “If you want a better answer, come with me.”

“How do I know that this friend of yours won’t kill me the moment he sees me?”

“He could try. Then I would cut off his head.”

The matter of fact way she said it startled him. Lela leaned back against the opposite edge of the roof as if she watched him. Corvo turned his head south, towards the bridge he had spent the better part of the day making his way across, and tried to comprehend what she was saying.

“You would kill him for my sake?” he finally asked.

“Yes,” Lela said. “For all that he’s given me, he has taken far more. If I had to, to save your life, I would burn his organization to the ground.”

“You trust me that much?”

“With my life.”

Corvo turned his head back towards her, surprised. Lela’s eyes softened, and he got the impression that she was smiling under the half-mask she never seemed to take off. With a sigh, he let himself relax from the tight posture their talk had forced upon him. 

“It’s getting late,” he said, indicating the last slivers of sunlight that hung onto the horizon. “Will your partner mind?”

“With what I’m paying him, I should hope not,” Lela said. “Grab whatever you want and meet me down there.”

Corvo followed her finger to the small cove to the right. With a short nod, he blinked down to the walkway and went to his room. His coat was still wet, but the fire had gotten rid of the worst of it. Shrugging it on, his hand went to the mask that Piero had created for him. After a moment of debate, he hung it from his belt. If there was a need, it would be easy to put on. His sword and pistol joined it, the weight a steadying force.

Satisfied, he went over to the door and threw the lock. The sound was jarring, as it had been since his escape, but the fact that he had control over it was satisfying. Looking over the room and seeing nothing else that he would need, Corvo left through the window. It was the work of minutes to make it to the cove with the assistance of his new powers. The glow of the mark faded back to black as he landed on the sands.

Lela stood at the edge of the water,  gazing across the river with a wistful look. Corvo made his way over to her, and she acknowledged him with a slight tilt of her head. Just when he was going to ask what she was doing, he heard the putter of Samuel’s boat. The boatman rounded the outer rock cropping that hid the cove from outside view. As he turned it parallel to the shore Lela strode into the water and hopped in. Corvo followed, taking his customary seat behind the boatman. Almost as an afterthought, he put on his mask, feeling the filter kick into work as he took a breath of stale air that quickly dissipated. 

“I didn’t know you were involved in this, Samuel,” Corvo said as the boat made its way back to the Wrenhaven.

“I was asked for transport,” Samuel said, shooting Corvo an easy grin over his shoulder. “Never could refuse the request of a pretty lady.”

“And I’ve never known a better man,” Lela replied. “Did the Loyalists ask where you were going?”

“Them folks are more concerned with the one he brought back to worry about me,” he said. “ ‘sides, it’s not too strange for a man like me to take off on his own. I’ll be back before they even know I’m gone.”

“Don’t accept anything from them if they offer it,” she said, a hint of caution in her tone. Her eyebrows were pressed in a tight line in her forehead as she looked down at her clasped hands. 

“If my Lady so commands,” Samuel said, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll keep an eye out for the rats.”

Corvo watched the conversation, narrowing his eyes behind his mask. The respectful way that Samuel talked to Lela was so different from how the boatman talked to Admiral Havelock, or even himself. While he and Samuel had reached a mutual respect, his easy acceptance of Lela was concerning. The young woman had given her trust to him almost as easily, as if they had met a lifetime ago rather than just a few days. As their conversation faded so did the last vestiges of light, leaving them in darkness except for the small lantern at the front of the boat. 

The encroaching darkness made it difficult for him to judge where they were, but eventually Lela waved for Samuel to slow as they passed what had once been a whale oil refinery. The puddles of abandoned oil glowed in the moonlight, giving the decrepit buildings an unearthly appearance that reminded him too much of the Void. Lela stood, the boat wobbling as she did, and pulled a spyglass from the interior of her coat. As she brought it up to her eye she grimaced, before moving it upwards.

“Can you get to those pipes?” she asked, pointing at the metal that was barely visible except for the oil that illuminated it.

Calculating the distance in his head, Corvo nodded. With barely more than a tilt of her head towards Samuel, who shook his head fondly in return, Lela held up her hand and leaped towards the pipe. As she scrambled up the side to what looked like a small walkway, he prepared to follow her. A hand on his shoulder drew him up short, and he turned to Samuel. 

“She’s grown up better than I would have thought,” he said. “Take care of her now.”

“Who is she?” Corvo asked, the words coming out as barely more than a hiss. 

Samuel shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “She has her own reasons for not telling you, I assume,” he said. “Maybe she doesn’t know how to tell you. Stay safe, Corvo.”

His eyes narrowing behind his mask, Corvo called upon the power given to him. In a rush of power that felt so much like water flowing downstream, he alighted on the walkway next to Lela. She didn’t startle from where she leaned against the rickety railing, her eyes focused on something down below. He peered in the same direction as her gaze, spying a man stumbling around the water, his clothes caked with half-dried oil. 

“Weeper,” she said after a second. “I didn’t know that they had gotten this close. I’ll have to let D-... him know.”

The mask wrinkled as she caught herself from speaking someone’s name. Corvo felt a prickle of unease curl up his spine. Though Lela had given her assurance that her ally would not hurt him, there was no real way for him to know if that was actually true. 

“Where’s your friend?” he asked instead. 

“A little bit further,” she replied. “This was the fastest way to get to his place.”

With a casualness that surprised him, Lela stood and walked down the metal walkway. Corvo followed behind, the sounds of moans catching his ear as they jumped off and onto a roof. Lela’s shoulders tightened, but she made no comment as they crossed the roof and made their way to a secluded courtyard, the gate entrance barred by what looked to be Overseer swords. A few masks were placed on spikes near the door, but none of them appeared to be sporting heads as well. 

“What kind of friend is this?” he asked as she produced a key from one of her pockets. 

“Ally,” she corrected. “One that doesn’t have many friends among the Abbey.  Word of his heresy made its way to them a few months ago, and they attacked him.”

“And you trust him?”

“His heresy is the same as ours,” Lela said as the door opened.

She gestured him through, and Corvo entered with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Instead of the foyer that he had expected, there were a few boards stretched across a gap that lead to a hole in the side of the building. Lela pressing against his back spurred him to take a step forward as she closed the door and threw the lock behind them. She stepped around him and onto the makeshift bridge, obviously expecting him to follow. With no alternative, he took a step onto the fragile looking bridge. To his surprise, it barely gave under his foot, and as he put some more weight on it, the board didn’t even bend.

“Don’t play around with that,” Lela said from the exit. “I think Pickford’s been experimenting with springrazor mines.”

“Lovely,” Corvo hissed, crossing the bridge to a sturdier looking footbridge. “Is Pickford your contact?”

“Just one of his men.”

“He trusts his men with springrazors?”

As Lela turned to respond, a cloud of ash appeared behind her and reformed into a masked figure that haunted his nightmares. His blade was in his hand before as the figure took a step backwards, their hand going to their own weapon. Lela’s eyes widened as he lunged towards her, his sword poised to strike the figure looming behind her. Her own sword was in her hands just as quickly, pushing against his blade just enough as it passed for the masked figure to dart out of the way. 

“Fuck,” the figure shouted, sounding distinctly male. The glass lenses turned towards Lela as she moved to block him from Corvo. “That’s him!”

“Yes,” Lela said, still holding her blade in guard. “Lord Protector, please stand down.”

“You know who these people are?”

“Lord Protector, give me a moment to explain-”

“They killed Jessamine!” he growled. “And you allied yourself with them?”

He didn’t give her a second to try and explain. Her sword caught his, the blades sliding until they caught in the crossguards. Her strength was nothing to his, and her foot slid backwards towards the edge of the bridge. Corvo pulled his sword back, before kicking forward with his boot. He caught her in the chest, tossing her to the ground below as the assassin vanished in a cloud of ash. 

Snarling, Corvo leapt to the ground as Lela swung herself to her feet. She looked at him warily, but unlike many fighters he had fought, her gaze focused on his torso. He feinted left, only for her to catch his blade as he stuck against her right side. She knocked his blade away, her hilt coming up and smashing into the side of his mask as he overextended. Instead of cutting at his back, Lela jumped backwards. 

“Lord Protector, just listen to me for a moment-”

“You lied to me!” he shouted at her, the words coming out terrifyingly distorted through the mask. “You said your ally was someone I could trust.”

“I hired him,” Lela said, her calm tone wavering as he took a step forward. “I needed his men to gather information to foil the Lord Regent.”

“You throw your lot in with traitors and murderers!”

“No more than you have!” Lela shouted back, the thin veneer she kept shattering. “Your Loyalists plan much the same, just without the balls to actually attain it!”

Corvo gripped his blade with both hands, swinging it overhead  to send it smashing towards her head. She twisted, catching the side and twisting the weapon to the ground. As he struggled to keep ahold of it, her foot snapped upwards, catching him across the jaw. He could feel one of the straps of the mask break as she connected, the mask slipping up his face as he fell to the muddy ground. He hit hard enough to knock away his breath, his sword slipping out of his fingers as everything gained a fuzzy edge. 

A tiny foot pressed against his ribcage brought back his focus enough to see Lela standing above him, her sword pointed at his throat. As he tried to focus on her, he couldn’t help but notice that her blade looked familiar. Rising slightly with the sword still at his throat, a wave of nausea hit him and forced the thought out of his mind. 

“You brought him here.”

The tight tone of the voice made him look up, and he had to blink quickly to force the bile in his throat down. The first thing he noticed about the newcomer was his red coat, followed by the sword sheathed at his side. Lela took her foot off his chest as he struggled to his feet, the mask falling to the mud behind him. The cool grey eyes of the red-coated assassin met his own, appearing to measure him. Lela grabbed his shoulder, her own sword already sheathed as he swayed upon reaching his feet. The feelings of nausea fell away as he took a deep breath, but the pounding of his head spoke to an oncoming headache. 

“I needed your assistance as well as his, Daud, ” Lela told him.

“You brought the man who wants to kill me into my sanctum.”

“He won’t kill you.”

For someone who had mastered the art of swordsmanship, she sounded so naive at those words. His hand grabbed at the sword she had sheathed, the blade flowing so much like his own as he dashed forward and placed it at the assassin, Daud’s, throat. For his part, Daud did not flinch, continuing to meet his eyes steadily. Then, as if finally gaining an understanding, he tipped his head back a little further, allowing the edge to cut into his flesh a little more.

“Corvo, please...”

He flinched at Lela’s words. The way she spoke reminded him too much of Jessamine, so similar to the final commission he had been given. Corvo turned his head slightly, just enough that he could see the younger woman out of the corner of his eye. Her hand was outstretched, stopping but inches from his arm, as if she was afraid to touch him. 

“Why?” he bit out, flicking his eyes back to the assassin. 

Daud swallowed, a bead of red appearing on the edge of the sword. “It was supposed to be a job. I kill her, I get paid.”

Corvo tightened his grip on Lela’s sword. There was something else in Daud’s tone, something that was at complete odds with what he was saying. Slowly, he pulled the sword away from the assassin’s throat, keeping it level in case there was a trick.

“What changed?” he asked.

“I’ve killed nobles before,” Daud said. His hand twitched upwards, as if he wanted to rub at where Corvo had placed his sword. “A hundred, at least. Some good, some bad. But I’ve done it for coin, and little else. Your Lord Regent changed that. He threatened my men.”

“You never said-” Lela began to say, confusion and anger entering her voice. 

“It wasn’t yours to know,” Daud cut her off. 

“I knew you killed her, and you let me believe it was for your purse.”

“Lela.”

She huffed, but stopped in her accusations. Corvo, much to his own surprise, lowered her blade.

“You could have refused,” Corvo said.

“You’re a fool if you think Burrows would have let me,” Daud said. 

“So you killed her.”

“And saved them.”

Corvo grimaced, the pounding in his head worsening as everything in his world shifted on its axis. It had been so easy to place all of his hate on the man who had ended Jessamine’s life. The others who had ordered it had been almost afterthoughts compared to the blade that they had wielded. 

“So what am I to do with you?” he asked. The sword came up again, pointed at Daud’s chest. 

“I ask for my life. I have nothing that I can offer in return for what I have done-”

“Swear your life to the Crown,” Lela interrupted. 

Corvo turned to her again, the surprise he felt mirrored on Daud’s face. She crossed her arms, an eyebrow raising as they continued to stare at her. Almost uncaringly, she stepped up between them, the palm of her hand resting against her blade and forcing it down. 

“If you think that I would serve Burrows and his regency-”

“I didn’t say swear your life to him,” she said. “I said to the Crown. To the true Empress.”

“To Emily,” Corvo said.

Lela nodded. “She will need people who she can trust once her throne has been taken back.”

“And you think that she would accept me?” Daud asked. “The one who killed her mother?”

“The one who her fa- her Lord Protector allows close to her?” she shot back. 

“Drexel, you don’t know that she won’t order him to kill me as soon as she knows.”

“I know her better than you think.”

Corvo watched their back and forth, turning the idea over in his head. Lela’s idea made some sense. The way that she stumbled over his title, the beginning of a word that he had never allowed for himself, brought up the question of how much she knew about Emily, and how much she had been told. It wouldn’t have been hard to gather the information from a terrified child, especially if she had gained Emily’s trust. 

“Will you swear?” Corvo asked.

“You’re agreeing with her? You should want me dead.”

“If Emily orders me to kill you once this business is finished, I will,” he replied. “But the Crown’s justice means nothing if I take your life here.”

Daud laughed, the sound more like the croaking of a dead man. “My life is yours, and that of the young Empress, it seems.”

Corvo heard Lela let out a breath she had been holding. He gave her the hilt of her sword as Daud rubbed at the cut on his neck. His sword was at his feet, although covered in a layer of mud that would be a pain to clean. As he bent over to grab it, his vision went white and he fell to his knees. After a few seconds of teeth gritting pain, he became aware of a hand against his face, as well as another wrapped around his shoulders. There was a steady stream of words that he could barely parse out being whispered into his ear.

“Tell me you’re okay,” Lela said quietly, her breath tickling the outside of his ear. “Please, you have to be. Please.”

“I’m fine,” he finally managed to say around the pain that still coursed through his skull.

“You hit him hard enough to dislodge that mask of his,” Daud said from somewhere nearby. “I wouldn’t be surprised if his wits are rattled.”

“I’m fine,” Corvo repeated as he got to his feet. 

Lela still had her arm wrapped around him, and he was grateful for the support. His head was spinning, and he wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground to keep from throwing up or worse. Another hand lifted his other arm, draping it over a pair of shoulder. The two began to help him walk across the muddy ground.

“I have a set of rooms we can put him in,” Daud said, more to Lela than himself. “Let him sleep it off.”

“I’m fine,” Corvo said again, though he got the impression that neither of them were listening to him. “I need to go back-”

“Not like this,” Lela said. “You can barely stand up straight right now. I doubt you could even make your way back without breaking your neck.”

“I won’t stay here.”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” Lela shot back. “I’ll stand guard if you want, but there is no way that I am letting you go back to that rathole until I’m sure you can at least stand up straight.”

“We don’t need to walk him up there,” Daud said, ignoring their conversation. “If Thomas will get his arse down here-”

There was the strange displacement of air, before Corvo heard another pair of feet land in the muck. His forehead furrowed, and he opened his eyes, unsure of when he had closed them. There was a wooden staircase in front of him, leading upwards to another set of wooden catwalks. 

“Fine,” Lela said, her eyebrows pressed into a thin line on her forehead. 

She stepped out from under his arm and held her hand out to the newcomer, Thomas. He took her hand, and both of them disappeared in a cloud of ash. Daud pulled him in closer, and Corvo had an intense feeling of vertigo as the world in front of him disappeared. Just as suddenly there was wood paneling in front of them, and an open door with Thomas standing in front of it. Lela stepped out from inside the room, the skin around her eyes paler than it had been before.

“Can you walk, bodyguard?” Daud asked. Corvo nodded, only to slump against Daud fully when he tried to take a step. The assassin sighed. “Drexel?”

Lela stepped forward, resuming her former spot under Corvo’s arm. The two helped him make his way into the makeshift room, depositing him on a thin bedsheet that covered a mattress. Daud stepped away quickly as Lela did her best to arrange him comfortably across it. Her hand brushed across his forehead as she shifted him, and as he met her eyes he saw something akin to pity within them.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” Daud said, sounding uncomfortable. Lela stood from where she had been sitting next to him, taking his sword and mask when Daud offered them to her. 

“Sleep well,” Lela said. 

Daud snorted before turning and walking out of the room. When the door shut behind him, she went and threw the lock. The mask she dropped on a half-broken end table, before pulling a rough cloth from her jacket and beginning to clean the grime from his sword. He could just see the hilt of her own sticking out from behind her jacket, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice.

“You should sleep too,” she said as she handled his blade with more skill than he would have thought. 

“You trust him?”

She chuckled at his question. “More now than ever before. He’s one to keep an oath sworn.”

Corvo closed his eyes at the surety in her voice. The familiar rasp of cloth against metal soon had him drifting away. As sleep claimed him, he felt fingers push his hair behind his ear, and a pair of lips press a dry kiss to his forehead.

He startled, but instead of waking in the bed, Corvo found himself on a piece of floating pavement. The dizziness and nausea that he had felt was gone, but he could feel the ground beneath him dip in the strange currents of the Void. Before it could unseat him he sighted a more stable looking projection and blinked to it, landing on his feet on the smooth black stone. 

A cold prickle of unease was his only warning before the Outsider appeared, sitting on the edge of the spire. The piece of stone looked too fragile for someone of his stature to rest comfortably, but then again, no sense of physics appeared to hold water in the Void.

**_“Such interesting choices, my dear Corvo,”_ ** the deity said, staring out across the madness of the Void.  **_“Sparing Daud was no easy choice, I know.”_ **

“You knew about him.”

The Outsider smirked, the expression like a piece of sharp ice across his face.  **_“There is very little I do not. You’ve gained another ally in your quest for justice, it seems.”_ **

“And the girl? She’s another of your chosen?” Corvo asked.

**_“She was, is, may be,”_** he said. **_“Her choices have impacted yours, which will change the way the river flows. Perhaps one will become two, or none at all.”_**

With that parting remark, he vanished. The Void stretched, turning dark around the edges of his vision, before Corvo felt himself fall fully into restful slumber.


	4. six months after the assassination of the empress, 25th Day of High Cold

It still gave him a chill when Corvo walked into his office. The deep seated dread that this day was the day that changed everything, the day a blade would find its way through his throat and end him. The day after Drexel had brought him into his domain, only to beat the man up herself when he had gone after Petro. She hadn’t made a move when Corvo had taken her blade and held it to his throat. Even through the pained expression from the blow she had given him, Corvo had seemed ready to slit his throat and toss him aside. 

And then Drexel had proposed a different solution, one that still had him questioning why he had agreed. One that still had him questioning why Corvo had agreed. The bodyguard had little love for him, that was certain if the stinging cut on his neck was anything to go by. 

“Good morning,” Daud said, barely looking up from the report that Aedan had given him. 

“Hardly,” he replied, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “My people are no closer to getting anything out of Sokolov. Are you sure you have no information on who else might have been involved?”

“The only person I ever interacted with was Burrows. He was reticent about any others who assisted him.”

Corvo snorted, whether in annoyance or disdain unknown. “Campbell is removed, and Lela took care of the Pendletons. Campbell helped with keeping the Overseers in check, and the Pendletons hid away Emily for more power in Parliament.”

“What they thought was the Empress,” Daud said, paying a scant amount of attention to Corvo as he read about the abundance of food and drink that the Boyle’s were bringing to their estate. Most likely for another one of their parties, though Outsider knew where they were getting the funds for such a thing. 

“She told you?”

“Hmm?” he said, looking up from the paper to see that Corvo had gotten much closer than he had anticipated.

“She told you that she had taken Emily?” Corvo asked. His knuckles were almost white from the way he was gripping the edge of the desk. 

“Considering that she stole your girl from my men, it was obvious. But she told me when she hired me, yes.”

“I still don’t understand that.”

“Business transactions are common-”

“I meant why she chose you,” Corvo said, annoyance clear. “She had a deal with Slackjaw. Getting information from him would have been easier.”

“But not as good,” Daud replied. “My men are trained to be covert, to know how and when to gather information.” He held up Feodor’s papers to empathize it. “I doubt Slackjaw could get his men close to the Estate District, or even to the Tower.”

“Your men infiltrated the Tower?” 

The  _ again _ was left unspoken. “Drexel wanted information. If she hadn’t managed to find you, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Burrows ended up dead in his bed.”

“Lela was going to go after them.”

“She’s apt enough with a blade to at least make her way to him,” Daud allowed. “But without the information my men have been gathering, she wouldn’t have gotten far after that.”

“Who else has she been asking for information on?”

“Your friends at that rat infested pub. The Tower, as we’ve discussed. And the Boyle Estate. No real connection between any of them.”

“Me. Burrows,” Corvo shot back. “The Boyle Estate is a mystery, I’ll grant you.”

“They appear to be planning for an event,” he replied. “Most likely something to cheer the nobility and make them forget the plague at their doorsteps.”

Corvo nodded, going to one of the windows that looked down on the main plaza. He didn’t appear to be continuing their conversation, so Daud allowed himself to finish reading Aedan’s report. Once done, he made a few notes on a separate piece of paper, and placed them behind the report. Drexel had never made any comments on the additions that he added, but with the amount that he was forcing her to pay for his services, it made him feel as if she was getting her money’s worth.

“You trained her well,” Corvo said as Daud picked up the waterlogged ledger that he had painstakingly been making his way through.

“Drexel’s not one of mine,” he said, prying apart two pages with as much care as he could so as not to rip them. “She showed up three months ago, kicked my ass like she kicked yours, and then asked me to have my men spy for her.”

“She must have had a good teacher.”

“Most likely one that her father brought in for her.”

“You know her parentage?” Corvo asked, turning back to him. Daud shook his head, putting the book aside as he realized that Corvo wished to continue the conversation. He got out of his chair, wincing as his feet protested the amount of time that they hadn’t moved.

“She’s some noble’s bastard, to be sure,” he said, capping his inkwell. “Speaks too well to have been raised anywhere else, and her manners are too polite but not servile enough to be a servant. Drexel’s definitely noble-sounding as well, most likely a father or grandfather’s name taken as her own.”

The other man took a small step to the side as Daud drew closer. It was more trust than he probably deserved. Or perhaps it was just enough room that the former Lord Protector could draw his blade and bury it in his chest without having to worry about catching it on anything. Shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, Daud looked from the window to see Drexel sparring with a group of his Whalers.

It was hardly a fair fight. A group of his men had taken her, training blades obvious in the way that they didn’t flash in the sparse sunlight. For her part, Drexel was handling herself well, dodging the attacks that would do the most damage while still getting hit with what would have been light cuts on her arms and legs. Daud nodded as she caught one of his men across the neck, dragging him up to defend herself from a hit that would have taken her head and definitely took the breath from her unfortunate punching bag. The Whaler, Bertram on what he could make out from his uniform, tapped out and went to the side of their makeshift ring, where a few of the other novices slapped his shoulder.

Drexel managed to slap away the blade of another, before taking a severe hit to her sword arm. Rather than tapping out, she switched her sword to her left hand, effortlessly blocking the next strike that came at her. In the spirit of fairness it appeared that she tucked her arm behind her back, to give the impression that it had been taken off. When another, Thorpe, went at her “injured” side, she caught him in the chest with her boot. He fell to the ground, and Drexel drew her blade lightly over his throat in what would have been a killing blow. Thorpe nodded to her, transversing to where Bertram sat with the others.

Galia and Hobson attacked her together, forcing Drexel to roll to avoid their attacks. As she came to her feet her sword was in a guard, catching Hobson’s blade in the guard. They struggled for a moment, close enough to one another that any attack Galia made would hit her partner. Only because he was watching closely did Daud see Drexel hook her leg between Hobson’s, sending him tumbling backwards towards Galia. As Galia threw a hand up to steady him, Drexel raced forward. Her sword thrust at Galia and tore sideways, in a move that would have disemboweled the other woman. As Hobson gained his feet and Galia moved towards the sidelines, she reversed her grip and sent the sword in an attack that would have split him from navel to neck. 

When Hobson moved, Drexel was pulled into the spot that he had just left. The remaining man, Fisher, strode forward, confident that his abilities had her fast. Drexel dropped her sword, her hand forming a fist. Behind Fisher, a mirror image of her appeared, then stumbled for a moment. The Drexel in his hold vanished, and in his confusion Fisher gave her the opportunity that she needed to sneak up behind him and run her blade across his throat.

Those from the sidelines entered the ring at that, and Drexel looked to be talking with those she had fought. For a few she looked to be giving pointers, but when she got to Fisher she cuffed him lightly upside the head. He returned it with a friendly jab to her shoulder. 

“Lela’s good, I’ll give her that,” Corvo said after they watched her continue to talk with them. “There’s a lot of the Guard in her training, but there’s also something...”

“Whoever Drexel learned from, they’re a master as well,” Daud agreed. 

Corvo turned to him, his brow furrowed. “You call her Drexel?”

“It’s the name she gave me,” he replied with a shrug. “Drexel, Lela, whatever she wants to call herself -”

Before he could finish, Corvo stormed past him towards the small catwalk that led to an abandoned building. Daud followed, slightly concerned, only to see him perched on the edge of the former empress’ statue, staring down into the courtyard. Traversing to the crown, he could see Corvo’s jaw grinding as he watched the young woman go through a set with Hobson, designed to help the bigger man keep his feet in close quarters fights.

“Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin!”

The shout startled the novices, and Drexel froze where she stood, her back facing them. Corvo brought his hand up, and appeared on the bridge next to Galia, who spooked at the transversal. She stepped backwards, her arms pinwheeling as she lost her footing. Focusing his own power, Daud traversed to her, grabbing the front of her uniform and setting her right on the footbridge. 

Corvo hadn’t moved. Neither had Drexel, keeping her back to the bodyguard. Hobson took a step away from her, his eyes fixed on Corvo’s face. Ever so slowly, Corvo took a step forward, and then another, until he was less than a foot from her. 

“Emily...”

Drexel shivered, the hand that Daud could see at her side clenching into a fist. “Lord Protector,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, “your daughter is safe, I promise. I sent her-”

“You are Emily.”

“Whatever you think, Lord Protector, I assure you that you are wrong.”

“You asked me if I would teach you to climb the Tower,” Corvo said, taking a step closer. “And then you demanded that we play hide and seek while your mother spoke to the Spymaster.”

“Stop,” Drexel said, her voice wavering and beginning to lose the strength it had once held.

“Please.”

His hand lands on her shoulder, and a full shudder ran down Drexel’s body. As if burned, Corvo let his hand drop. Her shoulders hunched forward at the loss of contact, and almost as if against her own will, Drexel turned to face him. Her eyes were watery, a fact clear even from where Daud stood, but no tear tracks adorned her face. When Corvo reached out and put his hand on her shoulder again, she almost leaned into the touch. 

“Keep everyone quiet,” Daud said to Galia, quiet even in the deafening silence of the courtyard. She nodded, the bit of her eyes that he could see through the lenses obviously confused and wanting to ask questions. As he took a step forward, Drexel backed away again.

“My office,” he told both of them. “Unless you’d like this to be a public reunion?”

Drexel nodded, stepping around Corvo and making her way to the entrance to the building. Corvo watched her go, moving to follow until Daud stood in front of him, forcing him to stop. Around them, the Whalers began to go back to their former activity, though many of them were looking on with interest. Before Corvo could resist, Daud grabbed his arm and transversed them to his office.

“Sit down,” he said, pointing to one of the chairs that decorated the office. As if to be obstinate, Corvo remained standing. 

“I need to talk to her-”

“And you will. Once she’s had a few minutes to collect her head.”

“I don’t know why she didn't tell me,” Corvo said, reaching up and running his fingers through his hair. “She has to know I wouldn’t hurt her-”

“Two days ago that wasn’t exactly true,” Daud reminded him. 

“If I had known-”

“But you didn’t. And she’s been here a lot longer than you’ve been out of Coldridge. She’s been alone, without anyone to trust.”

“But I’m her,” Corvo stopped himself, gaining a small measure of composure. “I’m the Lord Protector. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“How do you even know it’s her?” Daud asked. “For all you know this could be a trick, someone else using her...”

Now he had to stop himself. There was nothing stopping him from revealing what Delilah had planned to do to his daughter, but doing so now might cause more harm than good. Moreover, there was a part of him that didn’t want Corvo to know what he had done. It was easier to allow the bodyguard to hate him for what he had done to his charge than to feel a sense of thankfulness for saving the girl. Hate was a minefield he was well equipped to deal with.

“No one else knew about that promise,” Corvo told him. “I promised her that I would teach her to climb the Tower. And the things I recognized in her fighting? It’s similar to my own, if not the same. I trained her.”

“So that I wouldn’t be defenseless.” Both of them turned to the door, where the topic of their conversation stood. She closed it behind her, her arms crossing her chest as both of them eyed her. “You didn’t want me to end up like Mother.”

“Emily, I...”

“Prove it,” Daud said, throwing a hand in front of Corvo to stop him from moving towards her. “Remove that mask.”

She froze, her eyes darting between them. Daud kept his eyes on her hands, confident enough that Corvo’s reaction would be confirmation enough of her identity. She made no move towards any of the pouches hidden behind her jacket as she reached up towards her face. As she gripped the edge of the mask, she stopped again, her eyes closing for a moment. Steeling herself, she pulled it down.

The mask had left a mark on her cheeks, bright red against her olive complexion. Her nose was thin and similar to the late empress, but flatter on the bridge than had ever been depicted by the court portraitist. Her lips followed in her mother’s footsteps as well, if not a bit thinner. Taking a glance at Corvo, who was looking at her as if she was a miracle, he could pick out the features that the two shared. He lowered his arm, allowing Corvo to step towards his daughter.

Corvo went to her, his hand cupping her cheek as soon as he was close enough. Drexel, Emily, leaned in, allowing him to pull her to his chest in a hug. Slowly her arms unwound to reach around him in a hug. After a few minutes, Corvo pulled away, pressing a light kiss to her forehead as he did. 

“You didn’t tell me,” he said, sorrow coating every word of his tone.

“How could I?” she asked. “I’m not even supposed to be here, Corvo. The fact that I am is a strange enough tale.”

“One that both of us would be quite interested in hearing, I’m sure,” Daud said, remind the two that he was still present. 

Corvo startled, his eyes flicking to him for a moment before returning to his daughter. There was a hint of a smile on her face as she took a step back, out of Corvo’s grasp. She turned her back to both of them, her head tilting backwards as she appeared to consider the rotted ceiling above.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said after a moment. “Come here, I mean.”

“That when you met our mutual friend?” Daud asked. “When he marked you?”

“I met him when I was a child, first,” Emily replied. “He used to visit me in my nightmares, sweeping them away until all I could see was floating cobblestones and a deep, endless blue.”

“The Void,” Corvo said, a hint of fear in his voice. “He Marked you that young?”

“No. No, I wasn’t interesting enough yet, I suppose. Perhaps I never was going to be. But then my dear a-”

Emily cut off with a slight choking noise. She shook her head and opened her mouth, as if to speak again. Nothing came out but a strangled sound. Her mouth closed, and her lips turned into a frown. Corvo had taken a step forward at the first hint of her discomfort, but she waved him off as she brought a hand up to trace her lips. She dropped it to her hip with an annoyed grunt.

“There are things I can’t do,” Emily told them. “Things I cannot say.”

“No hints of the future,” Daud said. “Or anything that would change it, I imagine?”

“Nothing big,” she said. “There are certain things that can’t be changed.”

“Such as?”

“I was trying to go back to the day that my mother died, to try and make it so that it never happened,” she said. “That’s when I met him, in the Void. He was quite intrigued by how I’d used -- How I’d managed to make my way back here. We made another deal, and I was allowed to stay.”

“What if you hadn’t been?”

“Then I would have found myself back on the -- Back in the place where I had been.”

“How specific can you be about where you were?” Daud asked. “Where were you?”

“Serkonos,” she said. 

“Where you are now?” Corvo asked.

Daud watched as Emily didn’t respond. She looked as if she was trying to find a way to answer around whatever rules she had been given. Her mouth opened once, but closed again with a snap, whatever words that she might have said lost. He narrowed his eyes, watching as the bodyguard’s hand twitched, as if he meant to help her.

“Is she with people you trust?”

“With my life,” Emily said without hesitation. 

She met his eyes evenly, but after a moment Daud found himself looking away. Knowing what he did now, of her parentage, stoked the guilt that had mostly lain dormant since Delilah’s death. He had never thought to meet the child who he had torn from her mother, had never thought of who she would grow up to be.

“Your life,” Daud repeated. “People you know.”

Emily didn’t answer, not verbally, but her head tilted to the side slightly before she flinched. Daud nodded at her small acquiescence, and took a step forward. Corvo moved to stop him as he drew closer to her. She threw up a hand, stopping him as surely as the steel door of a safe. Daud felt the corners of his mouth turn up, stretching the scars on his face.

“Is she here?” he asked. “Or is she there?”

She blinked, as much an answer as anything. He gave her a short bow, before turning to Corvo.

“She put her when she was,” Daud said, grimacing as the words left his mouth. It was a horrible way to say it, but no less true.

“She’s in the future,” Corvo said, his eyes cutting between him and Emily. 

“She - I am safer than I ever will be now,” Emily agreed. “My associate, M--” Emily paused, annoyance crossing her face. “S-- They will keep her safe. From anything.”

“I hope they’re as good as you say,” Daud said. “There’s little we can do if they think to harm her.”

“Well, M-- my associate has both arms again, so I assure you, she’s in the best hands.”

Daud eyed her, unsure of whether or not the young empress was pulling his leg. She raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to contradict her. 

“There’s little we can do to bring you back at the moment,” Daud said. “And if you are safe-”

“I and she are.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about.”

“There’s plenty to worry about,” Corvo said. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “You could have told us before!”

“And accomplished nothing,” she replied, a hand coming to rest on her hip. “I made my way here, and I found myself without allies.”

“You would have had me,” he told her. “I could have helped you-”

“I know.”

“If you had come to me, I would have done anything in my power-”

“Bodyguard,” Daud said as Corvo took a step away from Emily. The other man’s face was troubled, as if he was still trying to process everything. Given the months that he had spent in Coldridge...

Daud looked away from Corvo to see his daughter almost curl in on herself. It was regal, the way that she bent her arms around her abdomen, her shoulders still straight. If it wasn’t for the lines around her eyes, a small mark of some unspoken pain, she would look to be holding court. Emily met his eyes for a moment, and something flared within them, accusatory, before she focused on Corvo again. 

“She couldn’t,” Daud told him. Corvo turned towards him, anger and betrayal stark on his face. “She couldn’t,” he repeated, “because you had to remain in Coldridge. She couldn’t remove you from there, change what happened to you.”

When her father turned towards her, Emily met his eyes for a moment before settling her gaze at some distant point past his shoulder. Corvo flinched, his shoulders hunching inwards as if some new weight had been pressed upon him. Then, almost eerily, all emotion faded from his face, and he looked at Emily as he had when she had told him her name was Lela. He took a step away from her, and his arms slid behind his back to a military stance.

“Why did you stay, if you couldn’t save her?”

Daud watched Emily’s jaw quiver as her eyes flicked to her father. “There were other things that I could do. Others that I could save.”

“And your plan now? We can’t exactly place  _ you  _ on the throne.”

Daud bit the inside of his cheek as Emily’s stone facade took the rebuke. Only a slight tremor in her hands gave away how much that remark could have stung. She tilted her head, considering, before reaching into her coat and withdrawing a folded paper. Striding past both of them as she unfolded it, Emily put it on the desk and smoothed out the edges. 

“Burrows is getting his financial support from Lady Boyle,” she said as they followed her. “She was the one who gave him the money to hire you to kill my mother.”

“It would fit with his financials,” Daud agreed, walking around the desk and pulling out the ledger he had been reading “Your former Spymaster was hemorrhaging money from his accounts. A loan based on some sort of promise, perhaps a seat in Parliament for any heirs-”

“How much?” Corvo asked. 

Daud glanced up from the ledger that he was combing through. “Twelve thousand, upfront,” he told him. “Three thousand upon completion.” He turned the ledger around, pointing to the number that had eluded his understanding for months. “The exact amount Waverly Boyle withdrew one month before I was hired.”

“She’s one of them.”

“Yes,” Emily told Corvo. “She is. And my plan depends on the masque she’s throwing in three days.”

“Not a lot of time,” Daud said.

“We’ve already have an invitation,” she replied. “Corvo?”

“I have it,” he said, reaching into his vest and laying the creased parchment on the desk. “But the invitation is only for one.”

“And that’s you,” Emily said. “There are gaps in the Boyle’s security that I can get in.”

“That’s the reason you had my Whalers there,” Daud said with a snort. “Clever. What’s your plan once you’re inside? There’s no way my men would have been able to infiltrate there.”

“Lady Boyle hosts a masque every year. I’ve gotten quite familiar with her estate.”

“And when we’re inside?” Corvo asked. “They’ve no doubt increased security since Sokolov’s abduction.”

“Is he all right?” 

“He’s becoming fast friends with the Admiral,” he answered, annoyance clear in his tone. “What about the inner security?”

“There will most likely be guards. Nothing that I can’t handle. Your job will to get Waverly into the main foyer.”

“Harder than you would think,” Daud mused. “She’s a paranoid one ever since she paid me to off her husband.”

“It won’t be an issue,” Corvo said. 

“The guards might be,” he said. “I’m assuming this plan of yours requires some degree of stealth to pull off?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be with you. Corvo will guide Lady Boyle to the foyer. And your plan comes after.”

“What is your plan?”

Emily looked to Corvo, whose face was still unreadable. “I can get a confession from her. As Daud said, she’s paranoid. With the right urging, she’ll crumble and topple whatever is left of Burrows’ plan.”

“That’s vague.”

“It’s necessary,” she shot back, her mask cracking as she frowned. “I’m sure you don’t tell the Loyalists everything you do to accomplish their goals.”

“At least I know the level with them,” Corvo said, a hint of a snarl in his voice. “They haven’t lied to me yet.”

“I didn’t-”

“You have,  _ Emily _ .”

She flinched at his tone. Daud watched the other man as if seeing him for the first time. Not since the first time he had strode into the district with Drexel/Emily had his control slipped. Whatever traumas he had suffered in Coldridge, he was not the man that she remembered, or the man that he would be in the future. When she had been this young he had most likely done all that he could to hide this from her.

But now they were both adults, and she had lied to him. A necessary lie, Daud could admit, but one that Corvo wouldn’t be able to see. Perhaps in the future where she came from Corvo understood, or had come to understand, that some things should remain secret. But this Corvo, the one from her childhood, recently escaped from prison? It was surprising enough that he had not simply gone on a rampage shedding blood through the streets in an attempt to right whatever wrongs had been done to him.

“Corvo, they are-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, holding a hand up. To Daud’s surprise, Emily stopped. “I’ll be there for whatever plan you’ve concocted. Until then, may I please be excused?”

“Corvo-”

“May I be excused, Your Majesty?”

“Of course,” Emily said. She swallowed hard as Corvo left the room, her shoulders slumping. 

“If I may-”

“If you say a word about me lying to you,” Emily said, “I will personally make sure that it is the last thing you say to me.”

“What do you remember about your father?” Daud asked. She turned to him, her eyes brighter than they had been with unshed tears, but made no effort to dissuade him of that fact. “When you were a child, what do you remember about him?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because the man you remember and the man he is right now are two different people. He would have hidden everything about himself that could have hurt you because you were a child and you wouldn’t have understood. But the you here now, in front of him, is not that child.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” she told him. “He’d protect me with his life.”

“And two days ago he attacked you with a sword,” Daud replied. “And a few days before that he was in Coldridge. I don’t know what it’s like in there in your time, but it isn’t anything that he’d repeat to a child. But his child isn’t here. You are.”

“So he’s angry at me because I’m not me,” Emily said with a strangled laugh. “That’s insane.”

“Travelling back in time sounds insane.”

“So you’re saying that he doesn’t know how to deal with me.”

Daud tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. “He’s afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Of himself, more than likely,” he said. “Of what he could do. What he might want to do. I wasn’t lying when I told you he would want to kill me.”

“He didn’t.”

“He would have if you hadn’t knocked him senseless. The only thing he saw when he saw he attacked you was someone that killed the empress, no matter your innocence. A hatred like that is what would keep a man living in the midst of a hellhole like Coldridge.”

“You’re sworn to the Crown,” Emily said, taking a step away from the desk. Her hands folded behind her back, similar to the way her father’s had. “He won’t kill you.”

“Not now, no,” Daud agreed. “But he wanted to. And right now, he’s running on the dregs of that anger to keep him going. Which is why he’s angry at you.”

“Because I lied to him?”

“It lets him keep going,” he told her. “Eventually it will fizzle out, and he’ll collapse. Or he’ll find something else to keep him going, good or ill.”

“”It’s still my fault, then?” she asked.

A soft rustle of fabric and the faintest sound of a footfall made Daud glance up as the young empress dabbed at her eyes. Over the railing he saw a flash a dark fabric vanish a moment too late. Unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes, Daud sighed and sat down in his chair. 

“It’s no one’s fault,” Daud said. “It simply is. Corvo will deal with it himself, in his own time.”

“I should go and see if I can find him,” Emily said. “To apologize.”

“Or, you could take the room I’ve been offering you for months and rest,” Daud replied. “Let your thoughts and his settle. Deal with it in the morning when both of you have clearer heads.”

Emily looked at him, her gaze frighteningly calculating despite the faint echo of tears. “Fourth room on the left, right?”

Daud nodded. Emily dropped her eyes from his, turning on her heel and heading for the door. She stopped when she reached it, her hand on the handle. Her shoulder rose and fell, and she turned back to him.

“You’ll tell me if he returns?”

“Of course,” Daud said, doing his best to ignore the small squeak of a boot above him.

With that, she opened the door and left. Calling up his own power, Daud watched her nebulous form make its way down to the second floor, and the room which he had set aside ever since he had been hired. Once he was sure she was inside, he walked around his desk, making his way to the small cabinet pushed against the stairs. From the bottom drawer he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. 

“Are you going to hide up there all night, bodyguard?” he asked. “I would prefer to sleep unmolested.”

Instead of answering, Corvo dropped over the railing. Daud held out a tumblr, which he took and tossed back like it was water. Once a respectable amount had been poured in his own glass, he passed the bottle. Corvo took it, his hands shaking, and poured himself another glass. Daud gestured to the two chairs near the plate glass window that looked out into the hallway, and took a seat in one. After a moment of debate, Corvo took the other. 

“Was I close?” Daud asked.

Corvo tipped the glass back again. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“One of my men was taken by the Hatters once,” Daud told him. “They had him for seven days before we found him. He wasn’t the same, after.”

“Did any of the ones who did it survive?”

“No.”

Corvo chuckled, the sound deep and dark in his chest. Daud waited and watched as the sound turned into a sob. He slammed his glass onto the armrest and poured more whiskey into his glass, slopping half of it out. This too he finished quickly. 

“I ended up sending the lad to Whitechapel,” he said as Corvo continued to drink. “He’s happy enough there, working as a farmer. Tells people who ask that he got his scars whaling.”

“Clever.”

“He is. It took him a while to get there.”

“And I’m like him to you?” Corvo asked. “Broken?”

“The opposite,” Daud replied. “He shattered. You hardened. There’s a difference.”

“You told her that I was angry.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“You would be worried about me?”

“If you weren’t angry, you’d be suicidal. But you’ve already tossed away that option. Probably did in Coldridge because you were worried about your little girl. What they would do to her if you were gone.”

“They would have hurt her,” Corvo said. “Burned everything of Jessamine out of her, turned her into a puppet for their own uses.”

Daud flinched at the word, but Corvo was already far enough gone that he doubted it went noticed. When Corvo made to grab for the whiskey again, Daud moved it out of his reach. Almost peevishly, Corvo grabbed his untouched glass and downed it. 

“You know now that they didn’t,” Daud said. “I’d say you’ve raised a pretty good girl for yourself.”

“I want to be angry.”

“Then be angry,” he said. “Be angry at Burrows for taking her mother away from her. Be angry at the ones who hurt her. Be angry at me. But do not be angry at her for protecting herself.”

“I hurt her.”

“Yes. Fathers do that sometimes.”

“I need to apologize.”

Corvo stood up, only to sway dangerously. Daud was at his side in an instant, an arm around his torso to keep him upright. He allowed him to take a few drunken steps before he sighted his balcony. In a twist of arcane energy, he transversed them to it. A gurgling sound made him look for a bucket, only for Corvo to swallow whatever it was back down. With a light shove, Daud pushed him onto the bed. It was easy enough to unlace his boots and set them next to the bed as Corvo drunkenly pawed at the blankets, swaddling himself within them. 

“Don’t throw up on my books,” he said. 

Corvo grunted, whether in sleep or acknowledgement. Rolling his eyes, Daud made his way to the stairs, walking back to his desk. His chair wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but it would suffice for one night.


	5. six months after the assassination of the empress, Lady Boyle’s Party, 28 Day of High Cold

Compared to the streets outside, the Boyle Estate was a paradise of color and sound. The guards had barely looked at his mask, one of them joking that it looked like the pictures of the Masked Felon plastered around the streets. Corvo had chuckled with them before entering. As the doors swung shut behind him, he made a mental note to have any of the guards in the Tower tested for incompetence. If the ones sent here were similar to those that would be there when Emily was restored, it would be far too easy for someone with ill intentions to sneak in.

The note in his breast pocket crinkled as he straightened his jacket. In some bizarre coincidence, or knowing what he did now, fate, the information that the Loyalists had gained from Sokolov pointed towards the Ladies Boyle as well. Havelock had been pleased with the information, and had been making plans much like Emily for the masque. Treavor had made a request before he had left as well, although Corvo was less pleased with it. 

He could see Lord Shaw’s retinue as he passed through the gardens. A part of him wanted to follow with Treavor’s request, but doing so might interfere with whatever Emily had planned. And Lord Shaw had occasionally been a friend to Jessamine in Parliament, although he had been opposed to many of her propositions to deal with the Rat Plague. Nothing that had warranted a duel. Add to the fact that Treavor had not told him what the duel was even for, Corvo didn’t see much of a reason to comply.

“Nice night.”

Corvo flinched as Daud stepped up next to him from the shadows, a bird-shaped mask covering his face. It was well constructed, with black feathers that gleamed in the torchlight. His normal red coat had been switched out for a dark coat that accented the mask well, although it looked a few sizes too big. As they made their way to the main doors and away from Shaw, Corvo could hear a slight clinking as Daud straightened one of his gloves.

“Where is she?” Corvo asked after they passed a pair of guards.

“Inside already,” Daud said. “She’s setting up for whatever her plan entails.”

“I thought there were guards.”

“There were.” Corvo looked at him sharply. Daud rolled his shoulders, a slight chuckle escaping the mask. “There will be in the morning as well, with horrible headaches, no doubt.”

“And Em-”

“ _ Lela _ is setting up for whatever she has planned,” Daud replied before he could finish Emily’s name. “All she needs you to do is get Waverly to the foyer.”

“Nothing else?”

Daud stopped, forcing Corvo to draw up short of the steps. The guard looked strangely at them as Daud grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards the garden area. Lord Shaw’s men stood at attention as they drew close, only to relax as Daud forced him away from the dueling arena that had been set up. Once safely ensconced in the shadows of the trees, Daud pulled his mask from his face. His forehead was furrowed, and his eyes unerringly met Corvo’s through the mask.

“You haven’t spoken to her.”

The words were cold, but a knife’s edge of anger coated them. Glancing quickly around to make sure that they were alone, Corvo took off his mask as well. The fresh air that hit his nose was more perfumed than that of the Hound Pits Pub or Daud’s hideout. The lack of sewer water and the overabundant heavy scent made him wrinkle his nose as he held back a sneeze.

“I haven’t had time,” Corvo said, lifting his hand to pinch his nostrils shut for a moment. 

“It’s been two days, bodyguard.”

“And she’s been avoiding me,” he said. “I almost cornered her last night before I left, but she just gave me a guilty look before jumping out a window.”

Daud rolled his eyes as he reached up and pulled his mask down again. “Both of you are idiots. When this is done I am going to lock both of you in a room until you both apologize or whatever it is you do.”

As Corvo put on his own mask Daud pushed past him. The familiar hiss of the filter system reengaging was a small comfort, the smells of the garden fading as it pushed sterile air towards him. Daud was already stalking through the open door as Corvo left the garden. He followed at a more sedate pace, tipping his head to the guard as the man opened it for him. 

The interior of the estate was similar to how he remembered it. There were more drapes than he remembered, and as he discreetly checked behind one he could see the half-finished marble work that they hid. The blockade from Tyvia had hurt their attempt to spruce up their already lavish lifestyle. Smirking behind his mask, Corvo let the drape drop and began to circulate the party. 

“They’re playing a party game tonight,” he heard one noblewoman tell a friend as he lounged against a fireplace. 

“Again?” 

“Don’t sound so annoyed. It’s a guessing game! Guess which is which and you win the prize.”

Non-chalantly Corvo stood and walked past them. The less-enthused one tracked him as he walked towards the buffet. The feeling of her eyes on him was predatory, and Corvo had to stop a shudder from going down his back. His hand slipped inside his coat pocket, around the leather and wire device that the Outsider had gifted him.

_ “She does not wield a sword or a pistol. Gossip is her weapon.” _

Corvo felt his eye twitch, unintentionally activating the spyglass built into the mask. He relaxed his grip on the Heart, the soft words that it whispered him no comfort in this moment. The way that it spoke was so different from how he remembered her, as if everything she had felt was erased. It thumped against his hand as he walked through the room full of decadent foods. Months ago this wouldn’t have been something that he paid attention to. Now, with the familiar hunger that clawed at his stomach, the extravagance and waste turned it even further. 

“Waverly’s harder to track down than a spooked cat.”

Daud’s low voice made him startle, his hand closing around the Heart again. 

_ “His hands have done violence. And yet she trusts him. Am I to forgive this man with her?” _

“-’s in the red tonight, I believe. Lydia’s spent the whole night around the grand piano. No one’s seen our lady in black for the past hour, which probably means Esma’s found someone willing to play her games for a little bit of time.”

“And where is she?” Corvo asked, trying to put Jessamine’s question out of his head.

“She’s been wandering around,” Daud said as he grabbed a flute of champagne. He paused as he lifted up his mask to take a sip, pointing down the hall. “There she is.”

Corvo turned to see the woman in red vanishing through a doorway. “Getting her to the foyer might be an issue if she won’t stay still.”

“Your problem, not mine.”

Corvo saw the barest hint of a smile before Daud tilted his mask back down. He huffed, the sound coming out more like a death rattle as he stalked off towards where Waverly had disappeared. A woman in a moth’s head mask tried to wave him down as he caught another glimpse of red, but he waved her off. She muttered something that sounded decisively uncouth at his back, but he paid her no mind as he saw Waverly stop just at the edge of a doorway to the foyer. 

“Beautiful party,” he said, coming to stand next to her.

“My sisters certainly think so,” she said. Her face turned towards him, the blank red porcelain gleaming in the whale light. “Have you a guess for the game?”

“Lydia’s in white near the piano,” Corvo said, playing along. “Which means you are either Esma or Waverly. And since I saw the lady in black disappear upstairs, I would imagine that you are Waverly?”

“Such a scoundrel,” Waverly said, batting at his chest lightly with her hand. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Not I,” Corvo said, rolling his eyes behind his mask. “I simply listened to a few others who were guessing.”

“A clever one, then? I do so enjoy that in a man.”

“Simply lucky, my Lady.”

“Well, I’ll go and get your winnings the, shall I?” Waverly asked, turning to walk past him, away from the foyer. 

“May I escort you?” Corvo asked. He grabbed her arm, tucking it against his own as he changed their direction.

“Bold and clever,” Waverly said in an arch tone. “What will the others think with me on your arm?”

“Preferably only what they hear,” Corvo said.

“Are you planning something salacious-”

“Waverly Boyle.”

The words echoed around the room. Waverly flinched, backing away from him. Corvo kept her arm, restraining her as she began to look around for the source of the voice. The nobles who were in offshoot rooms began to walk in, as if called by the familiar voice. 

“It’s been a long time, Waverly.”

Corvo looked up, catching a glimpse of something passing between the arches above. Waverly’s eyes followed his gaze, just as a pallid but finely dressed figure stepped out onto the walkway. 

“Have you forgotten me, Lady Boyle?” 

Corvo clenched his free hand into a fist. Jessamine stood above them all, a mirror image of how she had appeared in life. Or, as close to a mirror image as someone could achieve. The hair was almost dark enough, but where Jessamine’s had been black, theirs was just a few shades lighter. Emily quirked an eyebrow as she stared down at them all, every bit the image of the ruler her mother had been.

“Your Majesty...” Waverly said. She reached up and pulled off her mask, revealing her face and terrified eyes. 

The sound of a spring releasing drew Corvo’s attention away for a moment. His eyes met Daud’s mask, as well as the Overseer slumping against an archway. Acting nonchalant, Daud walked towards the group, blending in easily with the nobles. 

“I know what you did, Waverly. Tell me, is this worth it?”

Emily faded from view as her eyes glared at them all. Waverly looked around at the nobles surrounding her, the cold eyed masks judging her. She deftly slipped her arm from Corvo’s, taking a step towards the staircase that led to the upper floors.

“What do you tell yourself at night to assuage the guilt?” Emily asked, leaning over the second floor landing of the staircase. Waverly let out a little shriek, stepping back into the embrace of the crowd. “What lies did you agree with to mark yourself blameless.”

“You’re dead!” Waverly shouted up at the spectre that Emily had created. 

“I am,” she agreed. Her voice gained an unearthly echo, adding a double tone that was unnerving. “Will you be joining me, my dear?”

“Go away!”

Out of the corner of his eye, from where he had become ensconced in the crowd, Corvo saw a brief flash of something. Another Emily stepped from behind one of the drapes, raising a finger to her lips when she caught him staring. As she looked up to the Emily on the landing she froze, a spark of arcane energy wrapping around her for a moment. 

“Tell the truth, dear Waverly,” this Emily said, adding the weight of a third voice to the words as they washed over the room. “Tell them how you helped him murder me.”

“I didn’t-”

The Emily on the ground dissipated into smoke, falling towards the ground. As it hit a beast appeared, purple fire gleaming at it’s eyes. Corvo glanced up in time to see the one on the staircase vanish before Waverly screeched at the smoke monster that had lifted her off of the ground. Her feet kicked uselessly above the ground as she tried to grab the vaporous soot that had encircled her neck.

“I know the truth, Waverly,” the monster growled. “Tell them what you’ve done. Tell them what you did to me!”

Waverly dropped, stumbling on her feet for a moment before sinking to her knees. The smoke form shifted as one guard approached, his sword wavering in his hand. Obsidian teeth snarled at him, dripping black mist that vanished before hitting the floor. As Corvo looked around he saw that the guards had arrayed themselves around the cluster of nobles. None of them looked willing to step towards the Void-like creature that had appeared, or to try and defend Waverly against it.

“It was just money,” Waverly said, her voice quiet. “I just gave him the money.”

“You knew what he was going to do.”

The guard nearest Corvo looked at the others. A dawning light of understanding passed between them, and more than a few looked intently at Waverly. 

“She helped to kill the empress,” Corvo whispered to the guard. The man’s throat jumped, surprised at the hiss that followed the words. “A financier to her death.”

“He promised me,” Waverly said, drawing their attention again. “When everything was said and done, he promised me.”

“That he would make you an Empress over a city of ashes?” the monster growled. “That by killing me you would gain everything you ever wanted?”

“I love him.”

“And I loved this city,” the monster said. The smoke seemed to sink into itself, until Emily stood where it had. “I loved my people. Look at what has happened to them because of you.”

“He’s going to fix it,” Waverly said. “Hiram promised-”

Her words trailed off as she realized the last secret that she had given out. The crowd of nobles, already transfixed by the show that Emily had put on, began to whisper to each other. The ones closest to Waverly began to step away, as if whatever corruption had hold of her would transfer to them. Emily raked her eyes across them, her eyes stopping on Corvo for a moment. 

“I know what he promised,” Emily said, her voice the only sound but for the Wall of Light. “And what he has done. His reckoning is coming as well.”

The nobles flinched at her words, a few averting their eyes as she looked over them. A hand fell on Corvo’s arm, the Daud’s raven mask greeting him. Daud pulled him back a few paces, pulling a canister from beneath his jacket with his free hand. He pulled the pin and sent it rolling to the place where Corvo had been standing. It let off a small pop before a thin grey gas billowed out, engulfing those nearest to it. Immediately the nobles began to cough, a few of them whipping off their masks in an attempt to breathe cleaner air. Corvo shifted his sight, the world becoming engulfed in amber and gold. Emily’s form flickered in his sight, disappearing as the cloud began to disseminate across the room.

“She has her own way out,” Daud said, pulling him towards the door. 

They pushed through the doors just as one of the guards started up the alarm. The guard at the outside of the door looked at both of them, drawing his sword. Before he could get it out of his scabbard Daud had lifted and fired a bolt and fired. The green liquid in the sleep dart drained into the man’s neck, making him stumble and fall to his knees. Daud pushed him backwards, letting him slump against the stonework. 

They made their way across the courtyard, easily sidestepping the guards that had begun to move en masse towards the alarm. A few of the nobles who had elected to stay in the gardens, Lord Shaw among them, followed after the guards. Daud tossed his mask into the bushes, vanishing in a cloud of ashes only to appear on the roof of the entrance gate. Corvo focused on the spot next to him, jumping as he felt it pull him through space. He landed with nothing more than a clatter that could be attributed to birds. 

A few minutes passed. The doors to the main estate opened again, this time expelling a group of guards. Waverly was ensconced between them, her hands tied behind her. As she was shuffled along a few nobles were walking alongside, including one wearing a mask with a bad caricature of a rat. He tried to shove between the guards a few times, finally being knocked onto his ass. 

“Lord Brisby,” Daud said as they watched the procession. “I’ve had a few offers to make him disappear. None seemed to be worth my time.”

“Not enough money?” Corvo asked, looking around the roof.

“Not worth the trouble, really. Lord Brisby spends most of his time on his Estate in Baleton. The cost of getting my men out there was more than anyone would offer for him.”

Corvo nodded, scanning the crowd and other rooftops for Emily. In the twilight it was almost impossible to see anything with the offset light from the gardens. Taking a few steps to the street side of the roof, he checked the buildings there as well. 

“She’s not here.”

“She’s not,” Daud agreed. He frowned, the motion pulling at the scars that ran down his face. 

“What was her exit?”

“A balcony on the second floor,” Daud said. He pointed towards the edge of the house, his eyes narrowing as he looked into the distance. “Shit.”

“What?”

“How long do you think it would take her to get to the Tower from here?”

Corvo felt the pit of his stomach drop away. “She’s going after Burrows by herself.”

“She’ll stand a fair chance,” Daud told him as he pulled out a sword from beneath his coat. “But Burrows is sharp. If any of his loyalists were here I wouldn't doubt that he’s heard of Waverly’s confession. He’ll surround himself with guards.”

“She’s walking into a trap.”

Before he’d even finished his sentence, Corvo sighted a rooftop and Blinked. The rush of power had barely left his body before he let it carry him forward again. When something collided with him, knocking him flat on the tiles. He was up on his feet again in an instant, his sword drawn. Daud backed away, his hands out to his sides in as non-threatening of a manner as he could. Corvo snarled, but collapsed his sword after a moment. 

“She’s ten minutes ahead of us,” Corvo said. The words came out almost breathless, and he took a deep breath to try and regain it. “If we don’t stop-”

“Stop her?” Daud asked. He shook his head.”We’re too late.”

The sound of sirens began to filter through the haze of protective instincts. Corvo glanced upwards at the Tower that rose above them. The floodlights, which had been focused on the streets below every time he and Samuel had passed close, were now focused inwards. The courtyard almost glowed under the lights, the marble reflecting them back with an almost blinding intensity.

“She  _ planned _ to go after Burrows?”

“I doubt she planned to this soon,” Daud replied. “She had my men study the Tower, but even I would have some issues getting in now with the security Burrows has added.”

“Daud!”

A Whaler appeared between them, mask already off and hung on his belt. A leaking cut over his eyebrow and spray of blood across his uniform spoke of violence. Corvo looked at Daud, who seemed intent on his underling.

“Report, Dmitri.”

“The ghost of the empress is at the Tower,’ Tynan said, looking askance at Corvo. “She tore through the guards in the inner courtyard.”

“Your girl has a flare for the dramatic,” Daud said, following Tynan’s gaze. 

“That was Drex- Lady Emily?”

“Yes,” Corvo said. “What did she do?”

“Hamstrung a couple of the guards,” Tynan told him. “I gutted one that was going after her. I helped her for a bit, but then I got a bit cocky. She told me to come and find you. Then she ran up the Tower.”

“Go to the hideout,” Daud ordered. “Tell Thomas what happened. Then get yourself to Kent and stay there.”

Tynan nodded, disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared. Daud sighed, looking up at the Tower above them. Corvo looked as well, noting some of the new fortifications that Burrows had no doubt installed for his own safety.

“There,” he said, pointing at a half finished part of the wall. A few metal beams stood out against the broken brick fortifications, leading up the side of the Tower. 

“Good enough,” Daud agreed. “Lead the way.”

It took them the better part of five minutes to make their way up the Tower. Halfway up, Corvo paused, looking into the courtyard. It was a mess, a few men carrying their colleagues who were screaming in pain. There were others who lay on the ground, bloody slashes marking the blows across their chests. 

As he pulled himself over the edge and onto the top of the Tower, he saw Daud draw his sword. Taking his own in hand, he extended the blade. The sound of ringing metal hit his ears at the same time as Daud’s, and they rushed forward. They rounded the corner just in time to see Emily bury her sword in one guard’s stomach, just as another slashed at her side. She glared up at the one who had bloodied her, leaving her sword embedded in his comrade as she punched him in the chest. He stepped backwards, gasping for air as she withdrew her sword and swiped it across his neck. 

Corvo was moving before he could think otherwise, his sword intercepting the one swinging for her back. Emily grinned at him as he pushed the other man away, before putting her back to his. On the edge of his vision he could see Daud sneaking around the outside of the guards left. One he pulled away from his comrades, his sword nothing more than a glimmer of copper and steel as it tore out the man’s throat. 

It was quick work to take care of the men left. Emily flowed around him, taking out the men in his blindsight as surely as he did hers. The training that she had received, that he had obviously given her in her future, meshed perfectly with his, allowing them to work in a synchronous whirlwind of blades and strikes. When the last guardsmen fell, screaming and clutching his knee from where Corvo had driven in his blade, Emily knelt and hit him across the temple with the hilt of her sword.

“Sloppy,” Daud said, leaving the shadows to join them. 

“Convenient,” Emily shot back. She grimaced, putting a hand to her side. “We’d never get close enough to Burrows after Waverly confessed. Especially if she’s in Coldridge where an accident could easily be arranged to cover up her side of the events.”

“I would have helped you,” Corvo said.

He glanced around, pulling off his mask when he was sure there was no one left living or conscious to see. Emily met his eyes evenly, whatever emotions she held hidden behind the same mask that Jessamine had once worn. Dressed and made up as she was, it was easy to see the parts of her mother that she had remembered, the parts that she had taken for her own. Corvo closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly at her wordless rebuke.

“Burrows is inside,” she said, a slight hiss of pain following her words. “The Tallboy he had guarding him is down, but there was an Overseer with a music box. I couldn’t get close enough to see him, let alone deal with it.”

“And Burrows?” Daud asked.

“Safe behind one of his precious Walls of Light,” she scoffed. 

“Those always have a whale oil generator nearby,” Corvo said. “It shouldn’t be too hard to disable.”

“I don’t want to disable it,” Emily said, a hint of steel in her voice.

“Then I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish,” Daud said. 

“I need him caged,” she said. “I would have rewired it, but...”

“I have one,” Corvo said, pulling it from his belt. “Piero gave it to me before I left for the party. He thought it could have been useful for the Boyle’s security.”

Emily took it from him, looking it over. Seemingly satisfied, she handed it to Daud. He took it with a look of confusion. 

“Get in and rewire the Wall of Light,” Emily told him. “Take care of the Overseer if you can. Corvo and I will deal with my dear Lord Regent.”

Daud’s disbelief was clearly written on his face, but he gave her a short bow. As he straightened their was a sour look on his face. With a shake of his head, he disappeared in a cloud of ashes, as he had before, although this time Corvo didn’t see him reappear. Emily’s hand rested on his arm, stopping him as he began to walk forward. 

“I trust you,” she said, the first hint of emotion breaking past the mask she wore. “I always will. If you want Burrows dead-”

“I won’t go against what you want.”

“This isn’t always about what I want,” Emily said. She took a deep breath, wincing and pressing her hand closer to her side. “Burrows hurt you as much as he did me. If you want to go in there and stick a blade down his throat, I won’t stop you.”

“You’d allow me that?” he asked.

“It’s the only thing I can give you,” she said. “I couldn’t give you Mother back. I couldn’t let you have Daud. I can give you him.”

“What happened to him?”

Emily looked towards the safe room that Burrows had constructed for him, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “That’s not important now.”

“It is to me.”

“There wasn’t a trial. He was dead by the time I was crowned.”

Corvo nodded. It was possible that she could have been lying to him, but from her posture he didn’t think that was the case. She had been a child, he had to remember. He would have done whatever was needed to protect her. A trial, with a man like Hiram who had no qualms in taking a child and framing a man he knew was innocent, could have done more harm than good.

“I’ll know when I get in there,” he said. 

She accepted the non-answer, her shoulders straightening as she walked towards the safe room, her left hand still pressed to her side. Corvo followed as he reattached his mask, settling easily behind her left shoulder like he had her mother’s. She seemed unconcerned about it, relaxing slightly as his footsteps fell in time with hers. Daud stood under the small balcony, the Overseer sitting under his boot. Alive or dead, Corvo wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure if he cared, either. 

There were a few pieces of machinery strewn around the floor. It was only when Corvo saw the mangled body of a man lying within it that he understood that this had been the Tallboy that Emily had taken care of. For her part, she stepped past the body as if it was nothing more than a slight impetus on her journey. Ascending the stairs, Corvo see Burrows’ back to them, focused instead on what looked like a map.

“Hiram,” Emily called, her voice again mimicking her mother’s. 

The Lord Regent’s shoulders stiffened. He turned towards them, his hands clasping behind his back. When he saw Emily he faltered for a second, before a sneer crossed his face.

“I must admit, you do bear a striking resemblance to our departed empress,” he said. “Enough to trick dear Waverly. Not enough to fool me.”

“I never expected to,” Emily said, her speech becoming her own again. “You’re a smart man, Burrows. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”

“Is this a witty repartee? Some small smattering of talk before your demon comes for me?” he asked, scorn evident in his voice. 

“That’s entirely up to him,” she replied. “I however,” she stepped through the Wall of Light, “would enjoy such a chat.”

“You can’t,” Hiram sputtered, looking between her and the Wall. “That’s impossible!”

Emily shook her head. Corvo stepped through as well, standing off to the side so he could intervene if necessary. Emily’s smile had turned condescending as Hiram’s face paled. 

“Quite possible,” Corvo said, blocking the only other exit from the room.

“You are right, you know,” Emily said, ignoring Hiram’s outburst. He turned towards her, although he kept glancing back at Corvo. “I am not Jessamine Kaldwin.”

“Silly girl, I knew-”

“My name is Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, First of my Name, Empress of the Isles,” she said, cutting him off. 

“Lady Emily is a child,” Hiram said, his eyes scanning her face for lies. 

“I am. But I am not.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I assure you I am not,” Emily told him. “Shall I tell you something only I would know? About how you were talking to my mother before the assassins attacked? How I called you the mean old spymaster? Or of how my mother hated you, with the way you pandered to the nobility while stepping on the heads of her citizens.”

“You are naive if you think-”

“Is the power worth it?” she asked. “Was it worth killing her?”

“She would have killed us all for them!” Hiram shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “Those low-life thugs and criminals, the poor who could barely keep themselves in clean clothes if it wasn’t for our generosity. While they drained our coffers she sat and did nothing-”

“Taxes? You killed her over taxes and your own need for power?”

“Her loyalty should have been to those of us who kept her on the throne, not those who can barely read a bottle to tell if it’s liquor!”

His sword was against Hiram’s throat as he moved towards Emily. She took a step back, allowing him to face Hiram himself. Reaching up, he removed his mask and watched as Hiram’s fear turned to shock.

“You?” he asked. “You should be dead!”

“You killed Jessamine,” Corvo said. 

“It was an assassin-”

“Hired by you,” he said calmly. “He may have shoved the blade into her chest, but you were the one who ordered her death. You took her away from me. From our daughter.”

The last piece clicked into place for him. Hiram’s eyes widened, his arm coming up too slow to push Corvo away. The blade sliced cleanly across his throat, the blood welling up and spilling across his collar. His other hand reached up in vain to try and stop the bleeding, only succeeding to expand his suffering. He fell to his knees as Corvo stepped backwards to stand next to Emily. As he tumbled forward his hand scrabbled at their feet, before falling limp. 

Emily turned away as a pool of blood began to form underneath him. Corvo stayed a moment longer, waiting for the small, wet gasping noises to cease. When they did he wiped his blade across the former Lord Regent’s back to clean it, collapsing it and holstering it on his belt when he was done. As he walked through the Wall of Light he could see Emily at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the railing heavily. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs at the same time as Daud. Emily didn’t pay attention to them as they approached, her breaths shallow. Even under the thick white makeup that mirrored her mother’s skin she looked pale, with a sheen of sweat across her brow. Her hand was still pressed to her side, and she flinched when Daud tried to pull it away. He took it again, and this time she allowed him to pull it away from her side. It came away dark, with just a hint of red for him to recognize. 

Emily swayed, and before she could collapse, he caught her. Her eyes were screwed shut from pain, her breath coming in quick pants. The sound of ripping fabric made him turn in time to see Daud fold over a piece of his coat into a makeshift bandage. He pressed it to Emily’s side, tightly enough that her eyes shot open again.

“Corvo-” Emily said, her voice weak. 

Whatever she might have said after that was lost as her body went limp in his arms.


	6. fifteen years after the assassination of the empress/six months after the assassination of the empress, 5 Day Month of Ice/fifteen years later

It had been easy enough to slip away from Meagan after they returned to the Dreadful Wale. The sight of her unmangled arm had been strange enough, but the two eyes watching her had been almost unbearable. Billie herself didn’t seem to notice any sort of difference, carrying on as if nothing strange had occurred.

Emily closed the door and sat heavily on her bed. Her head swam a little, a sharp pain stabbing right behind her eyes. It hadn’t been too strange though, had it? Billie had always had her arm, why would she think any differently-

A drop of blood hit the back of her unmarked hand. Emily lifted it up, dabbing at her nose as a few more dripped out. As she did, everything snapped into place, both sets of memories aligning against one another. Billie _had_ lost her arm and eye when she tried to go see Stilton at his mansion. She _hadn’t_ lost her arm and eye because Stilton had come to see her personally. Both were true.

Tipping herself backwards, she began to fall into her bed. The feeling of something sharp poking into her back stopped her, and she pulled the offending item from the pouch that it had been stored in. The Timepiece sputtered in her hands, the trill of its mechanical parts continuing as she examined it. As she flicked the switch to activate the glasses she didn’t expect much. The lenses were dark as she held it out in front of her, without even a flicker to hint at its power. Emily sighed, watching as her reflection did the same in the dark lenses.

As she began to set it on the bedside table, a flash of blue crossed the lenses. Intrigued, she looked into the lenses again, only to barely stop herself from dropping it again. A familiar face, one she had not seen for over fifteen years, was smiling down at a little girl. She moved the Timepiece slightly, seeing Corvo watch them from the edge of the balcony. There was a happy smile on his face.

Emily couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her own face as she looked at him. He had smiled a lot throughout her childhood. Even after Mother had died, he had smiled for her. They had been forced then, not like the one she saw now. Mother had been so happy to see him home as well, whispering to her that the harbormaster had sent word of a royal vessel just off the coast the night before.

She closed her eyes, gripping the Timepiece harder. Remembering it through the haze of childhood memories was one thing, but forcing herself to watch it again? To know that there was no way to save her Mother? A cold wind brushed past her neck, and Emily shivered. The smell of brine and sea air caught her nose, and she opened her eyes. The bed underneath her vanished, and she just barely got her feet under her in time to stop a tumble.

Corvo stood with his back to her, his eyes on Jessamine and her younger self. Her younger self began to point towards the water lock’s roof. Knowing what was going to happen, Emily rushed forward, only for the world to fall apart under her feet. Corvo and her mother faded from view, and she began to plummet through a plane of blue struck through with black.

She tumbled past a half-broken cobblestone street and flung her hand towards it. Her Void-summoned ropes caught the edge, pulling her up to the apparent safety. Crawling onto the cobblestone, Emily looked at the Timepiece in her hand. It still ticked on, but the lenses had gone dark again. Whether from the Void or what she had done, she wasn’t sure. Emily got to her feet, tucking the device back into her pouch as she looked over the expanse in front of her. Transient pieces of architecture vanished and appeared with no apparent rhyme or reason, so very different from the spears of rock that she remembered from her visits.

**_“Who are you?”_ **

Emily turned around, keeping her breath even despite the fact that the deity had to know he had spooked her. He sat on what might have been a brick wall if half of it hadn’t been missing, his black eyes looking her over.

“I thought you knew that,” she replied.

 **_“You carry my Mark,”_ ** the Outsider said. His brow furrowed as he stood and vanished.

“You gave it to me.”

 **_“Not yet,”_ ** he said, reappearing just behind her. Emily turned her head, keeping her in her peripheral vision as he circled her. **_“I will. I will not.”_ ** His lips curled into what could have been a smile. **_“You’re quite... interesting.”_ **

“Why did you take me away from there?” she asked. “I could have changed it. Fixed everything.”

**_“You could not. No more than you could change the way the Wrenhaven flows.”_ **

“She doesn’t have to die.”

**_“She always dies at this moment.”_ **

Emily felt the Void shudder around them. She closed her eyes, feeling the prick of tears against her eyes.

“Long live the Empress,” she whispered. She looked up at the Outsider, not caring about the tears that dripped down her face. “So what was the point of this?”

 **_“Time flows in eddies around you,”_ ** he said. **_“You exist within it, and yet it cannot touch you.”_ **

He smiled, a sharp and terrible thing. Emily took a step back as his hand reached out towards her. Just before it would have touched her forehead a spark jumped between them. Every muscle in her body froze for a moment, and she fell to her knees in front of him as the feeling left her.

 **_“There are other ripples,”_ ** he said. **_“Smaller ones that can be disrupted and moved to your own ends. Changes that will echo across the years.”_ **

Emily looked up at him, breathing heavily. The Void shrunk around them, the darkness swirling around him. Between one moment and the next she was kneeling on an actual street, the sounds of city at night surrounding her. Taking to her feet, she reached down and pulled up her scarf to cover her nose and mouth. The familiar smell of Dunwall surrounded her, the stars in the night sky giving her confirmation of where the Outsider had dropped her.

There was no one else around. The streets themselves had broken cobblestone in places, meaning that it was most likely in one of poorer districts run by the games. Before she could sight a roof to pull herself up for a better view, the sound of boots on the ground had her ducking around the edge of a building.

Peeking out, she saw a group of people in uniforms she remembered from her childhood. They were arrayed in a circle, and through the small gaps she could see a smaller figure being jostled around. She could remember the feeling of a black hood over her head, her own breath warm against her face as men and women with unsheathed blades took her to the brothel that would be her home for the next six months.

She was moving before she even realized it, her crossbow aimed at the side of the assassin nearest her. They stumbled to the ground, pulling the sleep dart from their side as their head lolled to the side. As the one in front whirled around, she shot another, catching them in the chest. They still moved towards her, their sword sweeping overhead to strike at her from above. She parried it to the side, impacting it against the cobblestone mere inches from her younger self. With a growl she brought her hilt up, striking them just under their jaw and sending them tumbling to the ground.

One of the remaining two pushed her younger self towards the far wall. She tripped over one of the cracks in the cobblestones, crying out as she threw her bound hands out in front of her. Emily saw red, moving quicker than she had before to get in between the two assassins. Instead of being flashy, she kicked the legs out from underneath one. Their head hit the ground with a crack, and they didn’t get back up.

The other struck out against her, their sword arm overextending as she twisted away from it. Hitting them on the side of their throat with the side of her hand, she got her arm around their neck and brought them down. After half a minute of struggle they fell as limp as their comrades. Emily loosened her grip slightly, waiting to see if it was an act. Satisfied that it was not, she let them drop beside the others.

Her younger self flinched away as she moved closer. Emily paused and crouched down, brushing her hand against her bound ones. After a moment the smaller hands grasped at her own, tight enough that the skin underneath went white.

“I’m going to remove the hood,” Emily told her.

It was a shock to see her own face but so much younger. Emily Kaldwin, so soon after her mother’s death, looked up at her with a tear-stained face. Her eyes, although red, were steely even as her lip wobbled.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”

“Your father sent me,” Emily lied. “He wanted me to see you safe.”

“You know-”

“It was the only secret that he knew you would trust. It was the only way he knew that you would trust me.”

“You’ll get him out of Coldridge?”

“I-”

The words locked up in her throat, and she turned her face away from her younger self. Like a noose around her neck, she was suddenly felt the immutability of Corvo escaping with her help. She frowned underneath her mask, trying to figure out what to say to herself.

“I can’t,” she said. When little Emily opened her mouth to disagree, she held up her hand. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But keeping you safe is my first priority. Do you know where they were taking you?”

“They called it the Cat,” little Emily said. “They said no one would notice me there, that I would be just another orphaned bastard.”

“You’re not,” Emily said, reaching up and smoothing her hand across her younger self’s head. “But you do need to be hidden, unless they find you again.”

“Where?”

One of the assassins began to groan, and Emily straightened. Before they could get to their feet, she kicked out and caught them again in the head. They collapsed on the ground again, their back rising just enough for her to know that they weren’t dead. The sudden movement jostled her pouch, and she felt the tines of the Timepiece dig into her lower back. Removing the device, she looked at her younger self.

“I have some friends,” she told little Emily. She knelt again in front of her, this time holding the Timepiece between them. “They’re quite far from here, but I can get you to them. They’ll protect you while I do what must be done here.”

“Promise me that you’ll help Corvo.”

“I will.”

Little Emily nodded her acceptance. “How will we get to your friends? I overheard them saying that there’s a blockade.”

“Well,” Emily said. She flicked the switch to unfold the lenses. To her unvoiced thanks, when they unfolded she could see the room that she had been in before all of this. “Just look into this.”

Her younger self looked at her skeptically, but looked at the Timepiece. Closing her eyes, Emily focused, picturing her younger self travelling through to the ship. When she opened them, she saw an afterimage for a moment, before the light from the lenses of the Timepiece vanished, leaving them black and lifeless.

“I hope that worked,” she muttered to herself as she pocketed the Timepiece.

Looking back at the bodies strewn around the street, Emily debated leaving them. A few rats were eyeing them from the shadows, unwilling to move closer while she was present. With a sigh, Emily set a springrazor near the rats, before scouting the rooftops overhead. Spying one with a sufficiently flat roof, she began to ferry the assassins up, grumbling all the while.

As she settled them in such a way that they wouldn’t roll off to their deaths, justified as they might be, Emily paused. Two of them were near enough her size, but only one had the mark from where she had hit them with a sleep dart. It was hard enough to maneuver them away from the position that they had been placed, and even harder still to remove their outfit. A few of the pieces scuffed and scraped against his neck and wrists, but soon enough he was dressed in only his underclothes.

Eyeing the pile again, she pondered what to do next. She still remembered being in the Cat, which should have changed when she sent herself into the future with Meagan. A twinge of unease settled in her stomach, and before she could convince herself otherwise, she pulled at the Void, trying to create the image of herself as a child. It wasn’t easy, but after a moment of intense concentration, a doppelganger appeared in the form of her younger self. Emily took a deep breath and smoothed her own clothes down as much as possible, pulling the stolen uniform on over it.

She had an empress to deliver, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Wakefulness comes all at once. Emily gasped, one hand reaching for the sword that wasn’t at her side. Her abdomen burned with a dull pain as she sat up, only to realize that whoever had placed her in a bed had also undressed her. A thin brassiere covered her breasts, while a stiff bandage wrapped itself against her side.

“You’re awake.”

Emily glanced up a Daud as she pulled away the bandage. The skin underneath was slathered with some sort of antiseptic smelling salve over a line of stitches. The stitches stretched from just above her hip to just under her chest, the skin still raw around them. She twisted slightly, surprised when doing so caused no real pain.

“You got lucky,” Daud told her, pulling a chair from the bed beside hers. “And deeper and that could have killed you. It only hit the muscle from what Kent could tell; it just bled a lot.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” she said, leaning back against her pillow. “I’m surprised Corvo’s not here.”

“He is,” he said. Daud tilted his head towards the other bed.

Leaning around him, Emily saw Corvo, his skin sallow and brow covered in sweat. There were thick bandages like the one on her abdomen wrapped around his arm and chest. If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest, and Daud’s easy way of alerting her to his presence, she would have thought he was dead.

“What happened,” Emily asked, her voice calm as she turned her gaze back to Daud.

He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know. My men found him in the tunnels that lead back to that rat-infested pub he stays at, a few sword slashes on him. It wasn’t until they got back here that they realized that the wounds were poisoned.”

“He’ll be all right?”

“Kent had the antidote. He’s been sweating it out for the last few days while you’ve been here.”

“He can also hear you,” Corvo said, his eyes still closed.

“Really?” Daud said dryly. “I hadn’t noticed. Would he like to join the conversation?”

“With an apology, yes,” he said. Corvo pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side so that he could face her. “You were right about the Loyalists. I should have believed you.”

“Havelock did this?”

“Yes,” Corvo told her. “We were able to prove the Lord Regent as a murderer soon after you fell unconscious, and establish a holding rule with Parliament until your return.”

“You’ve been pardoned,” Emily said, a hint of relief in her voice.

“Of a sort, yes. I’ve been sent to retrieve you from your hiding spot, and on your return a full pardon will be issued.”

“Did you get that in writing?” she asked.

“I did,” Daud said. He smiled, looking like the wolf who caught the canary. “More than a few of them know my name. Most of those know what i’ve done on their behalf. Crossing me...”

“I don’t want my reign to start with a wave of bloodshed.”

“It won’t,” Corvo said with a sharp glance at Daud. “There’s been too much shed already.”

Emily nodded, accepting that Corvo would keep his word. “And the Loyalists?”

“Most are dead. Havelock killed Treavor, then Martin killed him while I escaped. When the Whaler’s arrived he had succumbed to the poison that Havelock coated his blade with. Most of the rest of them are alive. Piero and Sokolov locked themselves in his workshop, and Callista kept in her tower.”

“Some things can’t be changed,” she said. “Havelock killed them last time too. At least this time we don’t have to put him on trial.”

“Small mercies,” Daud agreed. “Now we only have to return you to your throne, and this whole matter should be settled.”

“It will never be that easy,” Emily replied ruefully. “And eventually-” She grimaced around the sudden loss of her voice. Daud raised an eyebrow and she shook her head. “It will take time,” she said instead.

“You seem to have turned out well enough,” he said. “With only your father to help you.”

“You’ll be staying,” Corvo said, his tone brooking no argument. “Your vow is to serve the Crown for the remainder of your days.”

“Try explaining that to a little girl who lost her mother because of me.”

“I will.”

“Don’t explain it fully,” Emily told Corvo. His face turned to her, an expression of confusion crossing it. “You never told me about the man who murdered her. You only said he had a change of heart.” Her eyes flitted to Daud’s. “It’s one of the only reasons why I spared your life. Because if Corvo could see that, then there must have been some truth to it.”

“I won’t lie to you.”

“You won’t be. He’s changed, haven’t you?”

Daud rubbed a hand across his face. “Not enough, perhaps. Time will see that through, I’m sure. In the absence of that, however, we need to have you back.”

“My younger self,” Emily said. He and Corvo shared a glance with each other, and nodded. “I’ll need my gear.”

Daud pointed to the end of her bed, where they sat folded and cleaned. Her weapons and pouches were beside it, her sword looking as if it had been sharpened since its last use. Daud turned his back as she dressed, while Corvo kept his eyes on the door. Wincing slightly as her stitches tugged, Emily settled the last of her gear across her body, including the pouch that held her Timepiece.

“I’ll destroy this when I return,” she said, pulling out the blackened piece of machinery. Like it had for the past six months, it continued to tick and whirl in its own fashion.

“That’s what brought you back?”

Emily nodded at Corvo’s question, knowing that his mind was going to the Heart. Rather than answer, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. Slowly his arms wrapped around her, careful of the injury on her side. Emily took a deep breath through her nose, taking in the scent of seawater and smoke that always seemed to follow Corvo around. It was comforting, even knowing that he wasn’t with her in the future.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, pulling away from him.

He pulled her back in for a moment, pressing his dry and fevered lips to her forehead. “Stay safe.”

She smiled as he released her, stepping a few feet away from both of them. With a flick of her finger, the lenses extended from the Timepiece. The place within wasn’t the room she had sent her younger self to all those months ago, but it was the familiar hold of the Dreadful Wale. The world seemed to stretch and warp around her, the smells of Daud’s hideout being replaced with the somewhat cleaner scent of the Serkonan sea.

Her younger self sat at the table she and Meagan had used to plan their attacks on the Duke’s regime. The boards that showed their targets had been covered with a tarp, most likely to hide anything that would happen from her younger self. The five people at the table didn’t seem to notice her approach, although one of them faded as she looked at him, leaving only four. As she looked back at Meagan, she saw that her arm and eye had vanished again, leaving behind their respective scars. Then, just as suddenly, they reappeared, and Aramis Stilton resumed his place in their game.

“Emily,” she said.

Sokolov tossed a few cards onto the table, not seeming to hear her. Her younger self perked up, getting up from beside the man who was sitting next to her. No one seemed to notice her leaving, and as Emily watched, the whole scene seemed to freeze.

“You’ve done it already?” she asked, coming to stand in front of her. “It’s only been a week. Corvo’s safe?”

“And more,” Emily told her. “Corvo will tell you when you return. Do you remember how to do this?”

Her younger self nodded, and Emily held the Timepiece out for her. Within seconds she vanished, leaving behind no trace that she had ever been there. Emily smiled for a moment, before an intense pain hit her, and she dropped to her knees. She put her hand to her head, watching as if entranced as blood dripped onto the floorboards beneath her. Vaguely she was aware of people shouting around her, but the chaos was nothing compared to what was happening in her mind.

Two sets of memories fought to be recognized as the only truth. Corvo had rescued her after six months from the Golden Cat. A mysterious woman, a friend of her father, had sent her to live on a boat for a week. Lady Waverly Boyle lived on an estate far from Dunwall. Lady Waverly lived in seclusion in the Boyle Estate, unable to leave its grounds. All of these things and more vied for her approval, each one more insistent than the last.

And then, it stopped. Emily took a deep breath through her mouth. After all, both were true. She had been in the Golden Cat, and she had not, due to her own meddling. The two sets of memories settled side by side, intertwining more in some places than others. The differences were there, but the most important things, among them Corvo and Wyman, remained the same.

“I’m fine,” she said, the words coming out slightly slurred. Emily grimaced, and spat out a globule of blood and spit that had accumulated in the back of her throat.

“I’d say not,” Meagan - no, she was Billie, had always been Billie- replied. “You look like someone just ran a sword across your face.”

“Just my side, actually,” Emily said, pushing herself to her feet. Her head spun a little, and she gratefully leant on the arm that the person on her other side gave.

“Well, that answers the question we’ve always wondered.”

Emily turned and looked at Daud. The memories of him as she grew up, first as a distant advisor, then as someone she trusted with her life, brought a small smile to her face. He looked older, his hairline receding and his hair having gone white. She remembered Corvo’s light hearted jests with the man who had killed his love, the enmity between them having almost completely vanished as they worked together for her. She also remembered the assignment that she had given her Spymaster, to fake his own death as one of the Crown Killer’s victims and find the real killer. It was the only reason that he had survived Delilah’s arrival in Dunwall while Corvo had been frozen in stone.

“It mostly went to plan,” she said to him.

“You’re lucky I got Billie there in time,” Daud told her. “I wish you could have told us more-”

“It’s in the past. Which reminds me...”

Emily dropped the Timepiece from her hand. It hit the deck on top of the blood that had spilt from her nose, coming to rest after a bounce. Before anyone could stop her, she lifted her foot and brought it down. The metal squealed and broke under her foot, scattering across the floor. For good measure she brought it down a few more times, until nothing remained but flattened metal and leaking black fluid.

“I would have done it differently, but that works,” Daud said, looking at the mangled device.

“I can’t let it tempt anyone else,” she said.

Daud shook his head in agreement as Billie rolled her eyes.

“You’ve made it back just in time,” Billie said. “The Duke is throwing a party tonight. If we want to make a move on Delilah’s spirit, now is the time.”

Emily looked between them, letting her smile harden. With a nod, she gestured for them to take down the tarp covering the boards and took her seat at their table. Brushing away the cards, she could see mapped layouts of the Duke’s palace she had stolen from the Royal Conservatory, along with a few markers of where she could get in. Daud took the seat next to her as Billie fixed a few of the pinned up papers on the board, his own smile similar to the one that she remembered from fifteen years ago. As Billie began to brief them, Emily let a thread of anticipation curl in her stomach.

Soon she would be home again. Soon, Corvo would be by her side, and this nightmare of Delilah's reign would be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was a wild ride.
> 
> Thanks again to my artist, tashaco, for the amazing art for this piece.
> 
> Thanks again to carvedwhalebones for holding this event.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


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